


The Buoyant Heart

by Arianne_Isobel



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bellamy PoV, Car Accidents, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heart Transplant, Romance, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-18 00:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 61,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne_Isobel/pseuds/Arianne_Isobel
Summary: Bellamy had been sick since the day he was born, his heart too weak to let him live a long life. He never imagined they’d actually find him a donor, or the dreams of the crash and blonde girl that would haunt him after.He didn’t expect to be so enchanted by the donors daughter, or get involved with the dark secrets she carries with her





	1. Part 1

The green glow of his alarm clock told him it 3:47 in the morning, but that wasn’t what woke him up. There was the soft patter of the end of a storm from his window, but it was the vibration of his phone on the nightstand that cut through his sleep.

His stomach dropped, excited and petrified of what an early morning call could mean. A blocked number could mean anything, it could be bad news, Octavia could have been in an accident, one of his friends. But it could be good news, it could be the best news.

“Hello?” He answered hastily, his voice still full of sleep.

“Mr Blake” he knew the voice of his consultant anywhere, his weak heart beat a bit faster, tightening his chest. “You need to come right away. We’ve found a donor”

Tears sprang to his eyes as he dialled Octavia’s number. This was never meant to happen to people like him, he was told he’d never make it to his thirtieth birthday. Octavia screamed and ordered Lincoln to stay with Augustus and she’d be there in ten.

Now he was sat in a paper thin hospital gown with an excited buzz around him. His consultant hugged him tightly and Octavia weeped next to him. Surgeons grilled him about when he last ate and drank as a nurse was putting a Cannula in his hand. His head was spinning with fear and excitement. Anticipation burned through his and he was worried that his heart wouldn’t even make it into surgery.

“It’s time” his doctor nodded at him. Octavia clung to him, weeping softly in his ear. “I love you big brother” she whispered.

“I love you too”

  
*

  
He woke soaked in sweat and his heart racing - for the first time it didn’t hurt. The images behind his head confused and shook him. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting his hands stop shaking and his heart rate get back to normal – whatever normal was these days.

“Morning” Octavia greeted him in the kitchen. She was here too much these days, its not that he didn’t appreciated the help, but she had a family she should be with. He wasn’t used to being taken care of, either. Since he was six years old he’d been more or less been a parent, so Octavia babying him was somewhat alien. She handed him a glass of orange juice, freshly squeezed and strained. He’d roll his eyes if he wasn’t so touched.

He stared hard at the table, the screeching metal still screaming in his ears. “I’ve never been in a car crash” it wasn’t a question, he just wanted confirmation.

“No” She told him gently “You haven’t”

He nodded, he knew he hadn’t, there were no gaps in his memory, no missing pieces.

So why did his dreams feel so real?

“Maya called” Octavia drew him out his thoughts, he looked up to where she was flipping pancakes at the stove. Her eyes were downcast, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“And?” He prompted

“She’s coming over at eleven, said there’s something she wants to talk to us about”

Maya was his counsellor, and an actual angel. She’d been there from when she was a newly qualified, Bellamy was her first patient, four years before they found a donor.

“Probably just a check in” He assured her, though his stomach dropped anyway, people like him didn’t get luck like this. He was terrified someone was going to tell him there’d been a grave mistake, the donor wasn’t met for him.

“Probably” She half heartedly agreed. “I’m working from home today anyway, I’ve already told them.”

“O” he tried, but she cut him off with a look. “You don’t have to do this, you can go back home. I’m not going to fall apart”

“I know” She whispered. Upstairs, Augustus’ laughter echoed as Lincoln tried to get him ready for school. “It’s just – god I thought this would never happen. You were getting weaker by the day, we’d planned your funeral, I was trying to get Gus ready, telling him that Uncle Bell might not be here forever and here you are, after major heart surgery you’re healthier than ever. I just think I’ll wake up and its all a dream” A tear ran down her cheek, he stood and wrapped his arms around her. He took her slender hand, putting it over his heart. The scar was only just healing, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore. She let out a choked laugh.

“See. It works fine” He’d never felt his heart beat so strong “I’m here for the long run, no getting rid of me now”

“Like I’d ever do that” She rested her head on his chest, he knew the feeling. The need to just know it was real, that he had a working heart. Heavy footsteps on the stairs made him step back. Octavia wiped her eyes and started putting the pancakes onto plates.

Gus ran up to him and threw his arms around his legs. “Hey buddy” He grinned, pulling him onto his lap. Octavia made a sound of protest – he wasn’t supposed to do any heavy lifting, but he hardly thought his six year old nephew counted as heavy. “What you doing at school today?”

“All the boring stuff” He screwed up his face in distaste and Bellamy laughed, he looked so much like Octavia when he did that.

“Well all that boring stuff makes you clever, and you want to be clever like daddy don’t you?”

Gus nodded “And mommy”

“Hmm, maybe mommy” Bellamy smiled when Octavia flicked a bit of flour at him.

“I’m plenty smart” she huffed “you’re getting the burnt pancakes for saying that”

“You cant be that smart if you burnt the pancakes” he pointed out, she rolled her eyes and told Gus to sit on his chair for breakfast.

Eating breakfast as a family distracted him somewhat, Lincoln didn’t have a lot to say when he’d first met him, but Bellamy couldn’t find the off switch these days. It was nice though, that his sister had found someone who loved her like she deserved to be loved. That was his one wish before he died, that his sister would be looked after and happy once he wasn’t there.

After Lincoln had practically dragged Gus out the house, he stepped into the shower, it was too hot, but he’d spent his life being cold, anything below nuclear felt wrong. He watched the water beads run down his chest, the big ugly scar that kept him alive was stark and purple against his tanned skin. He put his hand over his heart, thinking about the car going too fast, the storm obstructing his vision, the steering wheel was too light under his grip, the breaks unresponsive, the flash of blonde hair shouting over the rumble of thunder.

None of these memories were his own, but they were as vivid as dancing around the kitchen with his mother, Octavia’s first day at school. The phone call to say they’d found a donor.

He turned the water off and threw a towel around his waist. The alarm clock told him at was ten thirty, only half an hour until Maya got here.

Maybe Maya would know about these memories, she was probably the best person to ask. She was never judgemental, and he’d feel a but stupid asking his consultant. Though he was nice, he was also very serious and to the point.

He was just throwing on a t-shirt when the doorbell rang, loud and old fashioned – still the same one his grandfather had installed after he’d built the house. He jogged downstairs just as Octavia was answering the door, a sunny smile on her face as she let Maya in.

“Maya” He nodded, taking her jacket “good to see you”

“It’s lovely to see you” She smiled sweetly. Bellamy doubted she was ever anything other than sweet. “You look so well”

“Thank you” He smiled genuinely “I feel better than ever”

“That would be the new heart” Maya joked as she sat on the old arm chair. Octavia brought her coffee just as she liked it. She nodded her thanks as Octavia sat next to him on the sofa. “So how are you adjusting? It’s been three months now, the doctors cleared you for light exercises”

“It’s good” He smiled “Really good, I’ve started jogging – nothing too vigorous, just enough to get my heart rate up. Ive never really been able to do that before”

“That’s brilliant, Bellamy. How does it feel? To be able to exercise without concern”

“Amazing” He told her quietly. All his life he’d been frail and weak, his heart threatening to give to give out at any second. He was told he wouldn’t see thirty, he got a new heart six months before this thirtieth birthday. His biggest achievement to date would be growing old.

“Any problems? Concerns you might have?” She looked at him expectantly, and Octavia nudged him.

“Well, there was something, I might be being stupid or whatever, its probably nothing”

Octavia huffed next to him, Maya just nodded encouragingly.

“I keep having this dream, about a storm and a car crash, I’ve never been in a car crash in my life but this feels so real, it’s a vivid as my own memories. It’s not like I have it once or twice, its every night, it wakes me up in the middle of the night, and I’m so scared” he felt small, vulnerable admitting that he was scared of a dream when three months ago he’d had open heart surgery.

A flash of sadness took over Maya’s features, she looked taken aback for a moment but she recovered well, her professional smile plastering her face. “Scientifically speaking, that hearts just an organ. It’s just muscle, there’s no memories attached to it, it doesn’t really feel in the sense you think it does. When people say their heart is breaking, its not the organ, its your metaphorical heart, I like to think its your soul”

Bellamy nodded, Maya confirmed he was going crazy.

“Not scientifically speaking though” Maya continued “You’re not the first person who gets flashbacks after an organ transplant. There’s no real explanation for it, but it happens. So you’re not crazy, I cant give you the answer you’re looking for because I don’t know why you’re seeing it, but there’s a group you may be interested in, a support group. People like you – people who have had transplants. It might do you some good to talk about your experiences with like minded people. I know you were against it when I first brought it up, but now you’ve had some time to adjust it might be something you find helpful”

She was right, Bellamy had been dead set against it when’s he suggested it in their meeting before he was discharged, he just wanted to be normal, not the weak boy he was before, always on the brink of death. He wanted to be a man, strong and healthy. He didn’t want to sit around and talk about the past.

“I’ll think about” He muttered, though this time he might actually.

“That’s all I ask” She smiled and sipped her coffee.

“On the phone you said there was something important to wanted to talk about” Octavia prompted worriedly, picking the skin next to her nail – her nervous tick.

“Yes, I did” Maya dropped her head and retrieved a folder from her bag. Bellamy’s stomach sank, his heart sped up. “Just after your transplant, you asked about the family of the donor, you wanted to know if you could know who the donor was”

Bellamy and Octavia nodded, he’d had a moral battle all his life – without a new heart he’d die, but to get a new heart someone would have to die. He still felt that guilt lying heavy on his chest, that someone had lost someone they loved dearly so he could live. He wasn’t even sure he deserved this heart, so the thought of someone mourning a heartless body while he went on early morning jogs ate away at him.

“I couldn’t give that information away at the time” Maya told them “and I still can’t, but the family of the donor – well, their daughter actually – wanted to get in touch. You don’t have to meet her, but it might help all of you get some closure.”

“No” Bellamy snapped, his vision jolting for a second.

“Bell” Octavia murmured, gripping his hand.

“I cant” he pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache blooming at the back of his eyes. “I cant, O”

“You don’t have to decide right now, talk it through, sleep on it. You can take as much time as you need” Maya told him with a reassuring smile, putting her folder back and standing up.

“I’ll see you out” Octavia walked to the door with her.

“Give me a call if you Change your mind or just need to talk” Maya nodded at him before she left.

The silence deafened him at Octavia stared sadly at him, her green eyes watery. “Bellamy – ”

“What the hell am I supposed to say to the woman whose fathers heart I stole?”

Octavia sighed and sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “You didn’t steal anything, the family gave his organs willingly. This is what they wanted, for someone to have a life”

Bellamy’s breath came out shaky, his heart pounding in his chest.

_Not yours_ it pounded _not yours_

“What if they think I’m not good enough for the heart? What if they regret giving it away?”

“Then that’s their problem. But don’t you think they deserve a bit of closure too?” Of course she was right, and it was the least he could do, give someone’s loved one some closure for giving him life, but he just couldn’t face someone who would look at him with just sadness, knowing he added to their grief.

“It’s not going to happen, O”

  
*

  
He woke up in a cold sweat, jolting upright as the car hit the tree. It took him a minute to remember, he was at home, safe in bed. He’d never been in a car crash in his life.

The clock told him it was five thirty in the morning. He never slept in anymore, it was like his body was telling him he had a new life, a chance that not many people get. Don’t waste it.

He dressed in his jogging gear as silently as he could, slipping his shoes on and jogging down the wooden steps that would probably need repairing soon, but he just didn’t have that kind of money right now. Maybe he never would, but he has a new heart, and a chance to see his family grow up.

He jogged slowly, taking in the misty grey morning, the birds waking up and singing to their young. The early risers heading to work in their stuffy suits and the lovers sneaking back home. He tried his hardest to forget his dream, but it got more and more vivid each night. He woke drenched in sweat and his head feeling like it was splitting open.

He didn’t realise was was overdoing it until he had to come to a sudden holt and sit on the cold floor to get his breath back. It took him a minute too long to realise that he was outside a graveyard, bleaker because of the dull morning. A woman stood with a bunch of flowers, murmuring quietly to the tombstone in front of her. Maybe her husband, maybe her father. It could have been anyone. It could have been him. It could have even Octavia standing damp and cold talking to him over a bouquet of flowers.

He wasn’t okay.

He phone Maya when he deemed it an acceptable time, after everybody had gone to school and work. He’d demanded Octavia get out the house, he’d still be there when she gets back.

It was two days later when he walked into a church hall, he’d never been religious, even at his sickest, even when his mother overdosed and left him with a failing heart and a sixteen year old to look after, he never once prayed to a God he didn’t think would care about him. But here he was, filling a plastic cup with water and sitting next to an older man with a shaky hand in circle.

Octavia had been over the moon he’d decided to go to a support group. She was in constant fear of saying the wrong thing to him, said that talking to other people who had been through similar things would give him some perspective.

Maya sat happily in the circle, welcoming them all there. All being six of them, Maya said smaller groups were better for discussions.

There was a young girl there called Charlotte who also had a heart transplant, she was sad looking and weary, she reminded him a bit of Octavia.

“The not drinking things a bitch” a sharp looking woman called Echo told the group. She’d had a liver transplant six months ago. “But my skin doesn’t look yellow anymore, so that’s something.”

The older man next to him – Marcus had a kidney transplant from a friend who didn’t make it through the surgery. No one had told him under after the transplant was done. Bellamy’s heart broke for him.

A severe woman called Indra had a Lung transplant and became a self defence teacher after a year of travelling and sky diving.

“Kidney transplant, too” a woman called Niylah smiled at Marcus kindly.

Everyone looked at Bellamy expectantly, Maya smiled encouragingly. “Bellamy Blake” He nodded, raising his cup to the group. “I had a heart transplant three months ago. Heart defect since I was born. They said I wouldn’t make my thirtieth birthday, but looks like my sister gets to plan a party after all”

Everyone smiled kindly at him, Maya brought up guilt, and everyone let out a nervous breath. This is why he didn’t want to come here, he didn’t want to hash out his feelings to a bunch of strangers.

“I just feel like I don’t deserve this” He told them at his turn “The doctors told me so many different ages I wouldn’t live to see and each time my birthday came around I never felt like it was my time. When they said thirty I thought sure, whatever but as it to closer I made my peace, I knew I wouldn’t make it. I was days away from being hospitalised anyway, they were ready to make me oxygen dependant and I went to bed one night and thought I might not wake up. I got the call that night saying there was a donor and I had to go in right away. Sometimes I just feel like it should have gone to someone who was ready to keep living”

Next to him, Marcus put a reassuring hand on his knee. “Just because you made your peace doesn’t mean you’re undeserving. Make a new life.”

He nodded. He waited until everyone else had said their piece before he broached the subject of his dreams.

“I get them too” Charlotte said across from him. “I used to feel like I was falling, it hurt so bad I used to wake up screaming. It stopped after I met my donors family, I think – I think it helped that they told me the heart was mine, I felt like it belonged to someone else until I saw them. My donor died after she hit her head falling down the stairs, no ones ever been able to explain why I knew that. I just did”

Bellamy nodded sympathetically, but was internally horrified, he’d considered that the car crash he saw in his dreams could be how his Donor died, but hearing Charlotte confirm it was maybe a bit too much.

“I’ll do it” He told Maya after the session was over “I’ll meet the daughter”

“Fantastic” she practically squealed “She’ll be so pleased. Ill get in touch with her today and pop round to see you if i get chance tomorrow to organise it”

Octavia was almost giddy the following Saturday as she blitz the house from five in the morning. She’d brought every drink imaginable because she wanted to be prepared for every situation.

“Oh, and I look what I got” She grinned as she pulled out a rose gold and white stethoscope, forever a girly girl. “honestly I couldn’t resist it when I saw it on eBay.”

“Octavia” He sighed, running a hand through his hair “Don’t get your hopes up too much, and remember she lost her father three months ago, she might not want to hear his heart. She probably just wanted to see who it went to” they didn’t know anything other than the woman’s name was Clarke, when they asked Maya what she was like she said that was ‘nice, but still grieving’

“I know” She frowned slightly “But even if she doesn’t, Gus is obsessed with it, so maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll become a doctor when he’s older and we can have a nice early retirement”

Bellamy looked over to Gus “He’s licking the doorknob again” He told her.

“Shit! Gus I told you, there’s germs on there!”

Gus probably wouldn’t become a doctor, but it was alright because he was adorable. He wrung his hands nervously. She’d be getting here soon, and he still had no fucking clue what to say to her. He paced the floor as Octavia looked out the window. Lincoln was entertaining Gus at the table with his crayons.

“She’s here” Octavia gasped, Lincoln looked up and gave him a small smile. “Oh shit” She muttered.  
“Oh shit what?” He rushed to window to see a young girl – no older than Octavia really – getting out of a shiny red car that probably cost more than his house was worth. She took a bouquet of flowers out the passenger side and walked towards the house, pausing to look up at the house – the peeling paint and outdated windows that barely kept them warm throughout the winter.

“I didn’t expect her to be so young”

Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut, he hadn’t known what to expect, but he’d hoped they were older. Hoped whoever this heart belonged to had lived a good life before him.

The door bell rang, and Octavia moved to answer it. He moved away from the window, didn’t want it to look so obvious he was watching her come.

“Hi” He heard his sister greet from the front door, a bit loud and enthusiastic, how she always got when she was nervous. “I’m Octavia, Bellamy’s sister”

“Clarke” He watched as she slipped in next to Octavia, handing over the flowers “These are for you” she smiled kindly, and Bellamy was suddenly blown away by her, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Her long blonde hair fell onto a light pink sweater that was probably meant to look casual, but probably cost more than his months wages. Her blue eyes met his and they were so familiar it made his chest ache, he saw them in his dreams, the flashes of blonde hair were the exact shade of hers.

“I’m Bellamy” He nodded at her, still horribly unsure if this was right decision. She was staring at him with such a sad look all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and comfort her, which was a pretty strong reaction for someone he’d just met. “I erm – I’ve got – ”

“It’s okay” She assured him with a slight smile “I know”

He let out a breath. Of course Maya had told her his name. He wondered how much else she knew, whether it was the bare minimum like he knew, or if Maya was more lenient with letting out his information.

“Take a seat” He gestured to the sofa, he took the armchair, not wanting to sit too close and make her uncomfortable.

“Thank you” She nodded and say down lightly. “How are you feeling? After the surgery and everything; I can’t imagine it was an easy recovery”

He shook his head slightly, she’d lost her father and he’d took his heart but she was asking how he was. “Honestly, I’ve never felt better” He smiled, she nodded, looking relived. “I’ve always had a bad heart, since I was born I can’t remember ever feeling well. Now I can actually live”

There was a look on her face he couldn’t quite describe, a mixture of sadness and pride. “Good, I’m really happy you’re feeling better”

How awful must it be for her? To sit across from the man who’s only alive because her father died? To hear how well he was doing when her fathers grave hasn’t even grown over yet.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Octavia asked softly, putting the flowers in a vase.

“Just some tea please” Clarke smiled

“What kind? We have Lemon, Green, Peppermint, Jasmine, Raspberry, Mango, Apple and Earl Grey”

Clarke raised her eyebrow and smirked a little. “Raspberry sounds really nice actually, thank you”

“Coming right up” Octavia hopped of to the kitchen, Bellamy rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, she’s been very excited about you coming”

“It’s alright, I’d be excited too”

“We’re so, so grateful to you, Clarke” He told her seriously, she swallowed and nodded. “Really, I probably wouldn’t have lived the next couple of months if it wasn’t for – yeah”

She paused, looking down at her hands. “A few weeks before he died, my dad and I were watching TV at my apartment, some stupid medical show we weren’t aloud to watch at my moms house - she’s a doctor and she gets really pissed off when she watches them so we would watch them at my place. There was an episode about someone refusing to give their organs and my dad turned to me when it was over and told me that when he dies he wants everything to go, he didn’t want a single usable organ to stay in his body. He wanted to give life to someone who could carry on living after he’d gone” A tear ran down her cheek as she looked over him. Octavia put her tea on the coffee table and sat next to her, taking her hand. “I’m glad it went to you, I’m glad you finally feel healthy after not knowing what it feels like. He’d have loved that”

Bellamy had to look away to stop himself from crying, though Octavia wasn’t exactly shy about hiding her tears. He thought about closure, and Maya was right, he felt better knowing his family was happy it went to him. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t make the words form.

“Thank you” He whispered, unable to stop the tear from trickling out his eye. He put a hand to his chest “Do you want feel?”

She nodded, coming to sit on the arm of the chair next to him as he unbuttoned his shirt. She stared at the scar down his chest, he’d been in surgery over five hours and come out with a new lease of life and a scar to remind him. She hesitantly put her hand over is heart, which beat a little faster and harder at the contact from her. Did this heart know it who she was? Or was that his own reaction to her?

She half laughed, half sobbed as she felt his heart – her fathers heart under her palm. Bellamy put his hand over hers, keeping them both grounded. Octavia handed her the stethoscope, Clarke stared at it, wide eyed and unsure. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to” He assured her, but she shook her head.

“No, I do – its just, i never got the chance to hear it. All the counsellors and support groups tell you to get a recording of the heartbeat before they die but I never got to hear it, it happened too fast”

Bellamy nodded and dropped his hand from hers so she could put the stethoscope on. It was cold on his chest, but he didn’t mind. He just watched Clarkes slow, amazed smile, contradicted by the tears tracks staining her ivory skin.

“It’s beautiful” She whispered, reaching to squeeze his hand. “Thank you” she sat back on the sofa next to Octavia, who handed her a tissue.

“What was he like?” Octavia asked, Bellamy was glad she did.

“He was just the best” she said with a happier smile, it lit up her face and made Angels envy her beauty. “He was a complete chaotic lawful person, he’d always do the right thing even if it wasn’t the always best thing. He was an amazing father, he was always patient and kind, he told the worst jokes but they were still funny in such a bad way. He worked the hardest but still always had time for me. My best friend – Wells, his dad was pretty absent, my dad didn’t even think twice about treating him as his own son. Everybody just loved him”

There was something so soft about the way she spoke of him, something so tragic. He’d never had a father, and from what he heard from his mother he didn’t want to. But fathers like this made him envious of what he could have missed.

“What was his name?” Bellamy asked quietly, seeming to pull Clarke out of her own thoughts.

“Jake. Jake Griffin”

“It’s a good name” Bellamy said in a half laugh, Clarke nodded.

Gus came barrelling in then, climbing up onto the armchair and throwing his arms around Bellamy’s neck. Lincoln gave him an apologetic smile and introduced himself to Clarke.

“Uncle Bell” Gus whispered, though it was probably a bit loud to be considered private.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Daddy said that girls sad because her daddy died and gave you his heart so you can get better”

Bellamy smiled and hugged him a little tighter. Lincoln had explained it better than he ever could have.

“Yeah that’s what happened’

“I made her a picture, to make her happy again”

“That’s really kind of you, maybe you should go give it to her”

Gus pulled back and looked unsure, he was holding the picture carefully still, despite it being behind Bellamy’s head. He nodded, a bit unsure “It’s alright, she’s really nice” Bellamy assured him, and that was enough to make him jump down and go to Clarke.

“Hi” Clarke smiled at him, the way you do at children, gentle and reassuring and a bit kinder than you would at an adult. “What’s your name?”

“Augustus” Gus said proudly, it had taken him so long to learn his own name, they were worried he’d call himself Gus forever. “My daddy said you were sad because your daddy gave Uncle Bell his heart but he died”

Clarke nodded, a little sad but she didn’t let it show to Gus. “That’s right, but if it made your Uncle better I’m not as sad”

  
Gus thought about that for a moment, then nodded as if it confirmed some theory he had in his head. “I made you this picture, to make you happy again” He thrust the piece of paper into Clarkes hands, Bellamy craned his head so he could see what Gus had made.

It was what he supposed was meant to be him, holding a big red heart. Bellamy was smiling in the picture, a great big curved red line that was too big for his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled that big. Maybe it was time he started to. _Thank you_ was written in Gus’ messy scrawl on the other side of the page, Bellamy felt his heart swell in pride.

He looked up to Clarke, who had tears in her eyes and a sad smile. “I love it” She whispered “Thank you so much Augustus. I’ll hang it up with the rest of my pictures at home”

Gus smiled, satisfied with her response and skipped back off to the kitchen to carry on with his drawing.

“He’s lovely” She said to Octavia, who grinned proudly in response. “I should get going though, I don’t want to take up anymore of your Saturday”

“Oh, you’re no bother, really” Octavia smiled warmly at her.

“Even so, I’m sure you want to both get on with your lives. But thank you, I’m so grateful that you let me come and see you” She smiled shyly at Bellamy “and hear his – your heartbeat. I never thought I’d ever do that”

“I’m glad I could help” Bellamy nodded, standing with her.

“Actually, there’s something we wanted to ask you” Octavia said nervously as they reached the door “Bellamy was told he’d never reach thirty – he very nearly didn’t, but its his thirtieth birthday in July and we’d love for you to be there”

Clarke looked to the floor, brows furrowed “I appreciate the thought, I really do – but I’ll think about it, okay?”

They both nodded, that’s all they could ask for.

Clarke looked at Bellamy one last time, tears in her eyes and smiled “I’m happy it went to you. I’m happy you can finally live a proper life. Please don’t think of it as my fathers heart, its yours now. Make sure you make the most of it”

All he could do was nod at her. She hugged Octavia, then she was walking down the old creaky steps to her car.

Octavia turned to go back in, but Bellamy watched as she slid into the car and put her head in her hands, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. He ached to go to her, but would he make it better or worse? She sat up then, wiping her eyes and pushing her hair back.

The engine started and she was gone. It was time to live his life, for Jake Griffin, for himself.

It was time to try and forget the girl with golden hair and beautiful Blue eyes.


	2. Part 2

Arms tightened around his chest. He wanted to help but nothing worked. His legs wouldn’t respond to what he was trying to tell them.

He was on his back on the gravel road, rain coming down hard and fast, washing the blood away. His vision was blurry, he could tell even on the stormy night. A flash of blonde hair again, blue eyes twinkled even in the dim light

“Hold on” She begged, tears thick in her voice “Hold on, please”

His heart felt like it would jump out his chest as he woke up drenched in sweat and bile rising in his throat. Without checking the time, he put on his jogging clothes and slipped out the door. The sun was just rising over the horizon and birds sang cheerfully. He put his headphones on and let his music drown out his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut as a car passed by too fast.

It was getting ridiculous, he was scared of something he’d never experienced. Octavia had asked him why he never asked Clarke how her father had died, but the heartbroken look on her face told him he couldn’t add to her sadness.

She’d left a week ago and her face was still engrained in his mind.

He ran further than he ever had before, reaching the lake he taught Octavia to swim in as a kid. Sunlight bounced off the water as ducks glided idly, dipping their heads in the water and shaking off, water beads, sending them rippling across the surface.

He never thought he had a happy place, but it would probably be here if he did, with no one else around. Just him and his sunlight. His fingers brushed the envelope in his pocket, unopened and mysterious. It had arrived two days ago, his name written in pretty cursive, even the envelope was thick and expensive feeling, better quality than the ones he got from the corner shop.

He hadn’t told anyone about it, he had no clue what it was, but it felt deeply personal.

If there was ever good time to read it, it would be now. He pulled the envelope out and unfolded it, tearing it open.

_Bellamy,_

_There was so much I wanted to say to you, but i couldn’t seem to find the words when I saw you._

_There was so much I wanted to tell you about my father, but you don’t need to hear it. You need to move past it. Please don’t think of it as someone’s old heart, it’s your new heart and you should treat it as such._

_I wont – I cant tell you how to live your life, but I do ask one small thing. Be kind with your new heart, and live life to the full._

_My father wasn’t a saint, i know that. But he was kind, and he seized every moment._

_So I ask of you -smile at people In the street. Buy a homeless person a hot drink on a cold night. Give a pretty girl in a bar your number. Give your nephew ice cream for dinner and let him be a kid as long as possible. Bring your sister flowers – she loves you very much._

_My father always told me that doing the right thing isn’t always the best thing, but giving you his heart was both of those. So love life, Bellamy. Make every heartbeat count._

_Clarke._

  
Bellamy clutched the paper, his heart beating erratically. She’d put her number at the bottom of the page, in case he wanted to talk about anything.

He held the letter to his chest and closed his eyes, seeing her blue eyes full of fear as she leant over him. Not his memory, he reminded himself, but still just as vivid.

The sun was rising higher in the sky and he wondered how many sunrises he’d have seen of Clarkes father hadn’t of died.

His guess was less than fifty.

Did Jake Griffin know how many more sunsets he’d get to see?

His guess was no if his dreams were anything to go by. But he didn’t really know.

He could ask Clarke, but he didn’t want to burden her. He didn’t want to hinder her grieving by being a constant reminder of what she’d lost.

But god he ached to see her again.

  
*

  
His peaceful weekend was disturbed by his friends, not that he minded. It was rare to find people who would stick by him through so much, even his own mother couldn’t do that. His living room didn’t hold enough chairs for everyone, so Jasper and Monty sprawled across the floor, Miller and Jackson squashed themselves into one corner of the sofa, Emori and Raven at the other end with Murphy sitting at their feet. He took his armchair, Murphy called him an old man.

They were a dysfunctional mismatch of misfits but they were his family.

“So we’re dying to know” Raven snapped, thirty seconds after sitting down “What was it like?”

Everyone murmured in agreement, Bellamy frowned in confusion. They’d seen him plenty since the surgery, they’d heard the story loads of times.

“What was what like?”

“Meeting that girl, the donors daughter or whoever” Raven rolled her eyes.

“Oh” he muttered, pulling a loose thread on the armchair. “Sad”

“Well of course it was sad” Emori laughed “But what was she like?”

“She’s nice, Octavia got her a stethoscope so she could listen to my heart, we all had a bit of a cry and Gus drew her a picture then she left”

“Oh come on” Murphy snapped “You’re holding out on us, Octavia said she’s gorgeous”

Emori kicked him in the leg. “I’m only repeating what she said” He muttered

Bellamy just rolled his eyes “yeah fine, she’s attractive, but its not like I can exactly make a move on her. What am I supposed to do, call her and up and say ‘hey, its Bellamy, the guy with your dead fathers heart in my chest, fancy getting coffee this weekend?’ No”

“If you leave out the part about her dead father its not too bad actually” Jasper interjected, popping a grape into his mouth.

“No chance. Besides, her car cost more than this house. Girls like her don’t go for guys like me”

“What was her name?” Raven took her phone out her pocket

Bellamy sighed, he changed his mind, he hated his friends, he wasn’t even going to call them friends anymore, they were parasites who ate his fruit. “Clarke Griffin”

Raven types on her phone, then let out a victorious shout. “Found her! Yeesh Blake, you were seriously holding out on us. I might ask her out” Ravens phone was passed around, with varying notes of approval. He snatched the phone out of Murphy’s hand, seeing the picture that had them all hyped up.

And he understood once he saw the picture of her standing on a beach, grinning to the camera in a pair of denim shorts and a bikini top, beachball under arm and long blonde hair in messy waves. The same blonde hair that haunted his dreams. His mouth went dry at how happy she looked, her blue eyes sparkling in the daylight, the same eyes that had held more grief than Bellamy thought he’d ever see. She looked so much younger here, he checked the date, it was taken not long before her fathers death, probably on an exotic island somewhere looking at how clear and hot the sky looked for March.

“I said she was attractive” he said rolling his eyes, passing the phone back to Raven.

“You’re attractive, she’s drop dead gorgeous” Miller smirked, Jackson nodded in agreement.

“Thanks” He muttered, not really sure why they kept going on about it. It’s not like he could do anything, he’d forever be a reminded of her dead father.

“Hey” Raven said softly, nudging his knee, he looked up to see a softer expression than he was expecting on her face “Is this him?” He passed him her phone.

His heart could’ve stopped beating then. Clarke was a bit younger, arms crossed and a slight smirk on her face, next to her, an older man with his arm thrown around her. The same piercing blue eyes as Clarkes stared at him, grinning happily with years worth of laughter lines around his eyes. He could see the resemblance to Clarke straight away, it made his stomach turn uneasily.

He shoved the phone back to Raven “I don’t want to see” he snapped

“Bellamy – ”

“Can we just talk about something else?” He pleaded, not wanting every conversation to be dominated by the dead mans heart in his chest. The words in Clarkes letter echoed to him, she didn’t want him to think of this as someone else’s heart, it was his now.

There was a beat of silence, then Monty announced “Ravens got a date tonight”

Apparently this wasn’t common knowledge, so the attention was gratefully turned to Raven, who shot Monty a dirty look but started talking anyway.

He considered for a moment telling them about the letter, but outside the envelope he was scared it would disappear, that he’d imagined the kind words Clarke had wrote to him.

  
*

  
He didn’t know what possessed him to do it. Maybe he was possessed, because he certainly didn’t feel like he was in his own body as his fingers dialled the number at the bottom of the letter.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t slept in three days now, his dreams haunting him to insomnia, maybe it was the broken look in Clarkes eyes as she stood over his dying body.

Maybe it was because the last time he’d had that dream, he could have sworn his heart stopped.

It was stupid, it was insensitive to call on her but his mind was disconnected from his body as he brought his phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, by the third ring his mind was coming back and he was about to hang up, put this down as the worst idea when the sounds of laughter and music came through the speaker.

“Hello?” He picked up at the sound of her voice, slightly louder over the sound of music.

“Clarke?”

“Who’s this?”

“It’s – ” he paused, he shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t do this to her “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have – ”

“Bellamy? Hold on” the sound of music cut off with a slam of a door, he wondered where she was, some party somewhere “what’s wrong? What happened?” Her voice was slightly panicked, which only added to how awful he felt.

“I shouldn’t be calling you with this, I’m sorry”

“No, please talk to me. I said you can call me with whatever you needed” she was gentle and coaxing, he reminded himself that this what he needed.

“I cant sleep, I keep seeing – I keep having this dream. I cant explain it, I’ve had it every night since the surgery.”

There was a pause, he looked at the clock, it was just past midnight. “Can I come over, is that alright?”

“You don’t have to” a tear ran down his cheek though, and his voice cracked.

“I want to, i’ll be about forty minutes, okay?”

“Thank you” He whispered, sagging back onto the sofa.

True to her word, there was a knock on the door forty minutes later. He opened it to find Clarke dressed in a tight, short skirt and a grey oversize top, hanging off her shoulder, exposing enough pale skin to make his mouth immorally dry.

“I’m sorry” he told her sadly “you were at a party”

“Don’t worry about it, my friends have parties six out of seven days of the week. I don’t really like them anyway”

“The parties or your friends?” He tried to joke, though he felt a sob rising in his chest.

“Both” She smirked, following him to sit next to him on sofa, she angled herself towards him, their knees bumping.

“Clarke” He took a deep, shaky breath, hating himself for asking her this. “I didn’t want to ask you, I’m sorry for asking but I need to know – how did your father die?”

She looked shocked for a moment, but recovered well. She looked down at her hands perched in her lap, perfect teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“He was driving to my apartment, he phoned me about ten to tell me he was coming. There was an awful storm that night, I’ve never seen rain like it. When he hadn’t got to mine by eleven I was starting to panic, I kept phoning him but he didn’t answer, I went to go find him and – ” she wiped a tear from her cheek, he clutched her hand, squeezing it a little. “His car was wrapped around a tree. He was still alive, but he hit his head pretty badly. They said he aquaplaned, his car lost traction because of he storm. He was completely brain dead, the doctors said he was beyond saving”

Bellamy closed his eyes “I see it too” He whispered, his voice barely audible but he knows she heard it. “Ive never been in a car crash in my life, but every time I go to sleep I’m driving through a storm and the car loses control, I keep pressing the brakes but the car doesn’t stop.” He opened his eyes, she was staring at him warily, brows furrowed and a small frown on his face “I can hear the metal crunch under the tree and I’ve accepted I’m going to die but then you’re there. You drag me out the car and lay me on the gravel and I wake up to you begging me to just hold on. When I open my eyes, I have the worst headache right here” He runs his thumb over the left side of her forehead. She shivers under his touch and he drops his hand.

“I don’t know how you know that” She said shakily

“Neither do I” he didn’t realise he was crying until she leaned forward and wiped his tears away, her hands either side of his face kept him grounded.

“You know now” She whispered, smiling through her own sadness “they told me that the heart doesn’t feel, but I think It does, and I think it was trying to tell you something.” She dropped her hand to his chest, placing it over his heart through his shirt. “Now it’s told you, I hope you can move on. This is your heart, Bellamy. No one else’s, don’t let the past rule your life. Move on from Jake Griffin, start your own life”

He placed his hand over hers on his chest, it reminded him of the first time she was here, perched on the arm of the chair mourning her father, now she was telling him to move on from him, she was stronger than he would be in that situation.

“You’ll be okay” she smiled warmly, and he knew she meant it. “Don’t think about the dead, think about the life you’re about to have. Live for him”

He nodded his agreement, and then she was leaving again, with a sad smile and a small wave the door clicked shut and he fell into his first dreamless sleep since before the surgery.

  
*

  
The day of his thirtieth birthday, he was woken from a peaceful sleep by a squealing six year old and his very excited sister jumping on his bed.

“What the – ” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Party day!” Gus cheered gleefully, bouncing on his knees.

Octavia hugged him tightly “happy birthday big brother” she murmured in his ear, her voice thick with emotion “Never thought we’d get here”

“We have” He grinned into her shoulder “We made it”

“You did all the hard work” She pulled back to smile at him. “Lincolns making breakfast downstairs, I’m going to get the room ready for tonight.”

Octavia Blake-Woods did not go halves when it came to parties. The room alone was something they couldn’t afford, a grand ballroom in a hotel he could only dream of staying in, but she’d worked the sob story and got the room for a fraction of the price after making the receptionist cry. His story had also worked on the DJ, so his heart defect apparently worked to get Octavia some good bargains.

Not that he was complaining, it was good to see everyone here having a good time. Everybody he’d ever come into contact with was here, which was more people than he thought. It probably had a lot to do with Octavia’s facebook event though. There were even some of his old teachers there.

Everyone congratulated him wholeheartedly, it didn’t really feel like he’d done anything to deserve being congratulated but he accepted them anyway. He distracted himself talking to Raven and Murphy, but he couldn’t help glancing around every so often, looking for a head of blonde hair he was convinced wasn’t coming. He’d text her the address, she told him she’d think about it again. Bellamy thought that sounded a lot like rejection, but he tried not to let it sting too much.

“Hey man” Jasper nudged him, eyes glassy from the shots he’d seen him doing earlier. “Who’s that?” He jerked his head in the direction of Maya walking through the doors. Bellamy smiled to himself.

“That’s Maya, my transplant counsellor”

Jasper nodded, trying too hard to act nonchalant “Cool, yeah. She’s erm, she’s kind of pretty or whatever”

Bellamy laughed “Well I should go say hi, you want me to introduce you?”

“What? No! Why do you think she’d like me?”

“Come on” Bellamy grabbed his arm and pulled him over to where Maya was talking to Octavia and Lincoln. “Maya! Hey” He hugged her and she grinned up at him.

“Bellamy you look amazing”

“Thanks, it’s the new heart” next to him, Jasper cleared his throat. “Maya, this is my friend Jasper, you two should talk.”

Maya smiled and said something, but he didn’t hear it, all his focus went on Clarke, walking in with a taller, dark skinned man on her arm. “Excuse me” He murmured, already walking towards her. His heart sped up, yet he couldn’t push down the feeling of disappointment that she’d brought a date to his party.

“Clarke!” He called, and she looked up and smiled radiantly.

“Bellamy, hi” she let go of the mans arm and stepped forward to hug him. His breath stuttered a bit as he hugged her back, trying not to seem too enthusiastic. “Happy birthday”

“Hey, thanks. You came”

“I did, we’re just passing through, wont take up too much of your time. This is Wells, my best friend and sort of brother”

Wells stepped forward to sake his hand, looking over him a little critically. They nodded at each other, Bellamy got he feeling Wells was being overprotective.

“Let me get you both a drink” He led them to the bar, which was luckily dying down now.

“It’s your birthday, I think we’re supposed to buy you the drinks” Clarke pointed out with a small smile.

“Yeah but Octavia told the bartenders the whole was supposed to die six months ago, got a heart transplant and here I am story and they keep giving me free drinks so this ones on them. What you drinking?”

“Lovely” Wells muttered “Beer, thanks”

“Gin and tonic” Clarke smiled, a bit apologetically.

Wells looked at his phone “I need to get this” he took his beer and walked back towards the exit.

“Sorry about him, he thinks I just need to let go and move on” Clarke sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Yeah? And what do you think?”

“I think Wells needs to mind his own damn business” She smirked, sipping her drink.

Bellamy smiled and blushed, happy that she wanted to be here, not for her father, but for him.

“So I never got to ask before, I was hung up on” she waved her hand towards his chest “Yeah. What do you do, you know for a living”

“Oh” he frowned, not really wanting to delve into it, but he wasn’t going to deny her conversation “I was a high school history teacher, before I got too ill to work. That wasn’t really the plan, I wanted to do my masters, maybe even a PhD and teach College or write maybe, I don’t know - I always kind of wanted to work in a museum”

“You could always do that now, new heart and new lease of life”

Bellamy blushed, it was probably easier for her, he tried not to make assumptions, but he guessed everything came easy for her, no student loans, no medical bills, no worrying how to pay the bills. “Yeah, its probably not on the cards to be honest. They all require money that I just don’t have”

She cocked her head in confusion, a cute little V formed between her brows. “Isn’t that what student loans are for?”

He snorted involuntary. “There’s no way I’d get accepted for that. Transplants don’t come cheap, I’ll be paying this off for the rest of my life – not to sound ungrateful, of course! I’d take on all the debt in the world to keep on living. It just means my dreams have to take a step back”

Her eyes widened in shocked and embarrassment “I’m so sorry – that was so insensitive of me. I didn’t even think about that”

“No its fine, honestly. The insurance payed for some of it, but there’s still quite a bit to pay off”

“Hardly seems fair, does it?” She frowned into her drink “You can’t really put a price on someone’s life”

Bellamy shrugged “But they do. Enough of that anyway, what do you do?”

Her face lit up a little “Oh, I’m an artist, my friend has a Gallery in Polis so I help her run it, and showcase my art there”

“Really” He raised an eyebrow, not really pegging her for the starving artist. “I’d have had you down as a doctor or a lawyer or something”

She laughed lightly “If my mother had her way I’d have been a doctor. She’s never really been impressed with what I do, says the daughter of a Surgeon and an engineer should have a proper career, not a hobby”

“Does it make you happy though?” She nodded enthusiastically “Then I don’t really see why its an issue”

“Me neither, and it pays the bills so its not like she’s having to support me or anything. Not that she would” she rolled her eyes, Bellamy got the impression of a sour relationship, but he didn’t pry. “So are you going back into teaching?”

“Hopefully in September, the high school I used to work at said there’s a part time job for me”

“That’s brilliant. I suppose you just want to start living life as normal as possible now”

He nodded “Yeah, its been a hard year, I just need a routine – and for everyone to stop treating me like I’m going to drop dead at any second, namely my sister.”

“She loves you, you can see it in her face whenever she looks at you” Clarke smiled kindly “It must be nice, to have someone who loves you like that”

“You don’t have siblings?” She’d said that Wells was like a brother, but didn’t really mention anyone else.

“Nope, just me. None of my friends really have siblings, it’s a thing with professional families. They have one golden child to parade around and brag about, but more than one is just too much apparently. Don’t get me wrong, my parents love me, and I had Wells, but it would have been nice to have an actual sibling.” She nodded sadly, and Bellamy understood loneliness. Despite having Octavia, he was a caregiver before he was a brother for so many years.

“I practically raised Octavia, neither of us knew our fathers, and my mom worked hard, but from when I was six I was basically a parent myself. I mean, I failed at it, she came home pregnant at eighteen a month after graduating, but she’s still alive and so is her kid, and Lincoln turned out to be a damn good guy – too good actually, I keep telling him he should leave my sister for someone a bit more…sane”

She snorted a laugh “Well I think you did a good job, and I don’t know much about Octavia, but she’s raised a damn good kid.”

“Yeah” Bellamy smiled fondly “He’s the best. Not the smartest, but he’s cute so he’ll go far on that”

“What about your mom, is she still about? Clarke looked around, probably looking for someone who resembled him.

“She died a few years ago, overdose – everything just got a bit much for her”

“I’m sorry” She put her hand on his arm soothingly, but all it did was send electric currents over his body. “That must have been hard” there was a genuine sadness in her eyes that he knew she understood just how hard that was.

“It’s alright” he shrugged “its over now”

“Well its her loss”

His chest tightened at the sincerity of he words, at how kind and genuine she was. It made him proud to think he shared a heart with the man who raised someone like this.

“Bellamy!” Murphy threw an arm around his shoulder, staggering on his feet “happy birthday man. I love you”

“Yeah thanks” Bellamy smirked “Murphy, this is Clarke Griffin”

Murphy stood up a straighter, thrusting his hand out for Clarke to shake, the looked at Bellamy and mouthed “Heart” pointing unsubtly to his chest. Bellamy nodded.

“Murphy” He nodded at Clarke “Sorry about your heart”

Clarke smirked and raised an eyebrow “You’re sorry about my heart?”

Murphy nodded “Yeah, your dads heart. I’m sorry its in Bellamy”

Bellamy huffed “I think he’s trying to say sorry for your loss”

“I gathered it was something along those lines” Clarke laughed, Murphy didn’t seem phased though.

“Do you know that bitch Ontari?” He demanded, Bellamy’s eyes widened

“I know that bitch Ontari” Clarke nodded with a small smirk. “She’s a sort of a friend of a friend”

“She’s a bitch, right? I bet she ties your friend up for fun as well. Ive got a girlfriend now though, so fuck her. I’m gonna go find Emori” He staggered off again, Bellamy and Clarke stared after him in shock before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make eye contact with Ontari again” Clarke muttered

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make eye contact with Murphy again. I’ll have to find a new best friend”

They smiled at each other, falling into a comfortable silence. He saw Jackson come in, probably straight from his shift and looking around for Miller.

“Sorry, one of my friends just got here, I should probably go say hello” He smiled apologetically

“It’s fine, I’ll go talk to Octavia and I think I saw Maya around somewhere.”

He nodded, reluctant to stop talking to her, but he knew he had to talk to other people here too. He took Jackson to where the rest of his friends were gathered, empty glasses building up on the table.

He circled the room, an abundance of friends and acquaintances still wanting to talk and congratulate him when all he really wanted to do was talk to the pretty blonde again, but they were both distracted so he made do with stealing glances of her laughing with Octavia.

He felt like his voice box was going to fail him when he collapsed on a chair next to Harper and Monty. He gulped his Diet Coke down in one go, luckily they just let him be for a minute and rest. He took that moment to look around at how many people had turned up to celebrate something he never thought he’d make it. If someone had told him seven months ago he’d be here, healthy heart full and loved he’d have laughed them off. It still felt like a dream, like he’d wake up with blue lips and cold fingers.

If it was dream, he’d be happy to stay here forever.

“Have you seen John?” Emori sat next to him, scanning the room. “He said he was going to arm wrestle Lincoln and after the last time…”

The last time Murphy had arm wrestled Lincoln it ended up with Murphy breaking his arm in two places. Bellamy scanned the room, eyes falling on Raven and Murphy. “There he is – at the bar with Raven” they seemed to be staring intensely at something, Murphy seeming considerably more sober.

He followed their gaze to Clarke and Maya, who looked to be having a tense conversation. He watched in strange fascination as Mayas expression turned from discomfort to almost fear. He looked over to Clarke, who was furiously talking down at Maya. It was a stark contrast to the Clarke he’d been talking to not even an hour before. Clarke took a step forward, leaning a bit closer to Maya, who was stepping back and putting her hands up in serenader.

Wells seemed to come out of no where, pulling Clarke back talking to her in wide eyed shock. Clarke turned on heel dragged Wells out with her. On their own accord, Bellamy’s feet walked to follow them, even knowing it was wrong, whatever was going on was between Clarke and Maya, but there was something deep inside that needed to know.

“ - I’m upset too, but going off on anyone who disagrees with you isn’t helping your case” Wells hissed furiously from the deserted corridor. Bellamy pressed himself against the door, hoping to remain unseen and unheard.

“I don’t go off on anyone who disagrees” Clarke spat, her face screwed up furiously “I was going off because she said I was doing this out of grief and should just leave the whole thing alone”

Bellamy held is breath, wondering if h was talking about her coming here tonight.

“You think being overly emotional is helping prove your point? Mayas not even part of this and you’re acting like they want you to, an emotional grieving daughter who would say anything to – ”

“To what?” Clarke cut him off “Make shit up? That’s what they’re saying, I know they are. That’s the point they’re putting across to their lawyers. That I’m a sad girl who lost her father and trying to tarnish their reputation to console myself”

“But you know its not true, so stop rising to it and prove that’s not who you are. Prove you know what you’re talking about and they’ll start taking you seriously”

Clarke looked like she was about to cry, Wells pulled her and wrapped his arms around her, and how Bellamy wished it was him comforting her, even if their conversation left him with more questions than ever.

“I think its all been a bit too much for you” Wells murmured, Clarke nodded against his chest. “We shouldn’t have come, I knew it was going to upset you”

“I’m not upset about being here” She snorted “I’m upset no one believes what’s going on”

“I believe you” Wells assured her “Come on lets go, before you start anymore fights and scar poor Maya for life”

“Okay, let me go say bye to Bellamy. I’ll meet you by the car”

Bellamy ran back to the bar and acted surprised when she said she was leaving and thanked him for inviting her. He let her hug him, and savoured it for a minute, wondering if this was the last time he’d ever see her. The thought made his heart sink, half because he wanted to know what the hell was going on, the other half because he genuinely liked her, and he wasn’t supposed to do that.

No, he wasn’t supposed to fall for his heart donors daughter.


	3. Part 3

It was three days after his birthday that he wondered, now he’d stopped dreaming of the wreck that killed Jake Griffin, would he ever stop dreaming of Clarkes laugh and gentle smile?

Hopefully not.

He pulled the stethoscope from his bedside draw and winced as the cold metal made contact with his chest. The scar didn’t look quite so angry anymore, still raised and discoloured as it would always be, but it was a part of him now, a reminder of what it took to continue living. 

The sound of his heart beat in his ears gives him hope. Maybe Clarke was right and he should look into his Masters, he’d always put it off because he never thought he’d be able to do anything with it, after the surgery he just assumed he’d never get the money to do it, but maybe there were programmes out there for him.

Sunlight streamed in through the flimsy curtains, the humid heat already making him uncomfortable. August was creeping up fast and the weather became relentless. Even early mornings were too hot for his jogs, so he became restless – Octavia told him he needed a hobby outside of making himself sweat. 

He gets up with the birds call, the stairs creak underneath him, have done since he was a kid so he doesn’t take much notice anymore. The house was old but it would outlive him, maybe he’d pass it down to his children if he ever settled down. It hadn’t really been much of an option before, why get attached when he was only going to leave them? Why make the process unnecessarily harder than it already was. He couldn’t have brought a child into the world knowing the heartbreak of losing his own mother. He was thirty now, healthy with a potential long life ahead of him and no idea where to even start with taking to girls. Well, women now – he wasn’t twenty one anymore, not looking for a casual hook up in his college dorm. 

He decided that if it happened it happened, but Octavia had given Augustus the family name – along with Bellamy’s first choice of boys names, so the family would live on.

He pulled the freshly squeezed orange juice out the fridge, Octavia had rolled her eyes when he told her that. Maybe she was right, he did need a hobby. He picked his mail up and off the floor and put it on the table, promising to sort it later. For now he had a plan to sort out the damn front garden, the biggest eyesore on the street. He didn’t really know much about it, but he knew he had to pull up the weeds that littered the driveway, so he’d start there. 

He didn’t know how long he was out there for, but the sun was high when his attention was diverted to a slamming car door. 

“Alan Titchmarsh” Murphy nodded at him, holding out a hand to pull him up. Despite the hot weather, Murphy’s skin was still ghostly pale, perhaps that was just because of how dark Bellamy’s skin was going in the sun. He’d always had slightly darker skin, but it had started greying in his twenties, never really tanned like he is now.

“Nice bag” Bellamy nodded to Murphy’s shoulder.

“It’s a satchel” Murphy rolled his eyes “Wait until you see what’s in it before you judge my fashion choices”

“So it is a fashion choice?” Bellamy smirked. Raven got out the car and followed them up the steps into the house. It was considerably cooler inside, Bellamy poured them both a glass of orange juice, Murphy glazed at it like it had personally offended him. 

“So this is what you’re doing with your new life?” Murphy quirked an eyebrow at him, Bellamy huffed.

“School starts up again in September, they want me back three days a week so I’ll be out the house and doing something”

“Good” Murphy nodded “Hate to you see you gardening and making fresh orange juice”

“Enjoy your birthday?” Raven interrupted, falling back onto the sofa. Murphy sat down next to her, keeping his satchel on his lap.

“Yeah it was great” as much as Bellamy loved his friends, they were terrible at keeping secrets. Both of them sat agitated and twitchy, whatever news they had ready to bubble to the surface. “Spit it out” he sighed, Raven and Murphy at least looked a bit surprised.

“Out with what?” Murphy asked as innocently as he could, which wasn’t very. 

“I know you, you’re desperate to say something”

“So Clarke seems nice” Raven said, schooling her features carefully blank.

Bellamy thought back to when Raven would have met Clarke, and he was surprised he’d forgotten she was standing at the bar when he’d seen Clarke and Maya arguing.

“Did she?” Bellamy challenged, Raven shifted uncomfortably. “Just say what you want to say about her”

“I think you need to stay away from her” Raven blurted, not looking at him. Bellamy sat back in surprise, that wasn’t what he expected from them. “I know you like her, we could see it when you were talking to her, but trust us – you don’t want to get involved with her”

“Why don’t I?” Bellamy challenged, looking hard at both of them, they knew something – something big, something that maybe scared them. “What did you hear? When she was fighting with Maya”

“I wouldn’t call it an argument. It was an attack” Murphy snorted, Raven elbowed him.

“Tell me” Bellamy demanded, screwing his hand up into a fist. He shouldn’t be taking it personally, his friends were always looking out for his best interests, and it was immoral to fall for Clarke, but he also wanted to tell them to butt out and mind their own business. 

“We didn’t hear the entire thing, but Maya was asking about some sort of investigation, then Clarke got defensive – started telling her the investigation was none of her business and Maya said that maybe she should drop it and rethink it all when she’s finished grieving and Clarke – ” Raven paused, giving Murphy a loaded look.

“Clarke just started attacking her” Murphy finished for her “She was telling her she needed to mind her own business and if she didn’t Clarke was going to come for her next, then her friend came and took her away”

Bellamy didn’t tell them that he’d followed them out to the corridor, or about the conversation he’d overheard, because even with the two pieces of information put together, it still didn’t make any sense. 

“So we did some digging” Raven pulled the satchel off Murphy’s lap and hunted through, handing him some papers. He looked over, the words seemed to fit together but didn’t make any sense in his mind no matter how many times he re-read them. “Well, Monty did”

“I don’t – ” he looked over the papers again, it still didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand”

“She’s suing the hospital” Raven explained calmly, watching him carefully “For turning off her fathers life support”

Bellamy felt the world shake a little around him, he gripped the edge of the armchair, still not understanding what the hell was happening.

“What do you mean? I thought he was brain dead”

“Apparently she thought he wasn’t, and there’s an investigation on going, according to Monty’s erm – research, she’s actually right, there wasn’t enough evidence to say he didn’t have a chance of survival”

The air seemed to get sucked right out the room. His chest was tightening, his heart going back to its old, taunting rhythm

_Not yours - _

_Not yours – _

“So what? He shouldn’t have died?” Bellamy was trying to stay calm, but he could hear the panic creeping into his voice.

_Not yours – _

_Not yours – _

“I told you we shouldn’t have told him” Murphy muttered, Raven elbowed him in the ribs. 

“It doesn’t matter if he should or shouldn’t, he is and there’s nothing you can do about it by overthinking it, but from what Monty found she’s about to go public, we didn’t want you to read it in the papers or see it online or anything, we wanted to give you a heads up” Raven was still watching him carefully, like he was a long forgotten unexploded bomb, could blow up at any second – maybe should have blown up a while ago. 

“Thanks for the heads up” He managed to get out, though he couldn’t help but feel like he wanted to shoot the messenger. He knows he maybe would have read about it sooner or later, someone would have shared it online or it would be in the newspaper, but they’d popped his bubble and took away his blissful ignorance. 

“There’s something else” Raven told him ruefully, and gods what else could they throw at him? Had his life not been shook up enough already?

“What?” He snapped, close to breaking point. 

_Not yours – _

_Not yours – _

“Something that’s already gone public actually, you were bound to see it sooner or later” Raven passed him another piece of paper, an online article that his brain refused to comprehend. “She thinks her fathers crash was sabotage”

There was a picture of a dark blue car wrapped around a tree, in daylight now, but it was the same scene he saw in his dreams, just a different perspective. Is this what Clarke pulled her father out of? There was a small square with Jake Griffins picture, smiling and free looking, smile lines and happy twinkle in his eyes. 

“She’s had investigators look into it, but she thinks the breaks were cut on his car” Raven continued, though he didn’t want to hear it anymore, he couldn’t find the words to tell her to stop. “I’m really, really sorry Bellamy”

He put his hand up, silencing her. They both looked down at the floor, sadness and concern coating their expressions.

“I cant – I cant talk about this, I cant think about this”

_Not yours – _

_Not yours – _

“Just go” he snapped, making them both jump.

“Bellamy – ”

“Go” He shouted, the words bouncing around the room “Get out”

They nodded, Raven squeezed his shoulder on her way, Murphy gave him a solemn nod. The door shut behind them and he picked up is empty glass, throwing it across the room, letting it shatter against the wall. 

“Fuck” He screamed, to no one, anyone – anything, to the goddamn fucking universe for pulling this kind of shit. He knew it – he felt it deep down that good things don’t happen to people like him. He didn’t deserve this kind of luck, he didn’t deserve another chance at life. The coffee table caved in under the vicious kick he’d thrown at it, anything to get rid of this anger, the despair that was physically paining him. 

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he finally gave in and collapsed onto the chair, head in his hand and let out the breath he’d been holding.

The universe was not kind to people like him. 

That’s how Octavia found him, he doesn’t know how many hours later, he hadn’t paid any attention to the chimes from the grandfather clock in the hallway.

“Raven called” she told him gently, her hand resting on his shoulder “she told me what happened”

“It shouldn’t have been me”

“Yes, it should have. Whatever happened already doesn’t matter now, there’s nothing we can do about it, so don’t waste it” she told him fiercely, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and reacting her head on top of his. “You deserve this. You got the shit luck all your life, appreciate that whatever happened gave you your life back”

Bellamy nodded, he couldn’t argue with her even if he wanted to. He’d learnt over the years the arguing with Octavia was like trying to draw blood from a stone. Eventually she stood, picking up the papers and unopened mail, sitting opposite him and going through the articles herself. She seemed to be just as unsettled by it as he was, her frown deepening with every sentence. 

“It’s done now” was all she said before ripping up the articles and throwing them in the trash. “There’s nothing that can be done, he’s not exactly coming back to demand his heart back”

Bellamy snorted, it was exactly the crude kind of thing he’d expect Octavia to say.

“Did you make another payment?” Octavia asked, looking down at the envelope in her lap.

“Of what?”

“Your medical bills, this looks like a receipt” she turned the envelope over in her hands, when Bellamy shrugged she ripped it open – not one to worry about it not being addressed to her. “Holy fuck did you come into some money and not tell me?” She demanded harshly, staring at the letter in comical shock.

“Of course I didn’t come into money” He snapped “You know any money I’d get would go towards you and Gus, I have a payment plan for a reason”

“You don’t need a payment plan” she told him quietly, still staring down at the letter.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The balance – its been completely cleared” her voice shook a little, as did her hands. He took the letter off her, staring in disbelief.

But it was there in black and white, an anonymous donation had cleared any existing debt – and it was a lot of debt.

“There’s been a mistake” He whispered, the words on the page not fully sinking in. He took his phone from his pocket and called the number on the header.

“There’s no mistake” The woman on the other end of the phone assured him. “The payment was made two days ago, they asked to remain anonymous and we have to respect that but rest assured, the payment was cleared successfully and written off”

“It’s true” He told Octavia, who launched herself at him to wrap her arms around his neck. Overjoyed and a bit delirious she wept “Who on earth would have done that?”

“I have no idea” he murmured as she hugged her back, no longer a care taker, but a brother.

“There were a lot of people at that party” Octavia sniffled. She was right, a lot more people had turned up than they’d expected, but how many of them had that kind of money to spend on his medical bills? “Maybe it was a crowdfund or something”

“Surely you’d have heard about a crowdfunding” he contradicted, because he had a feeling he knew exactly who’d have they money and motive to pay off his medical bills.

Octavia shrugged “Well whoever it was I’m thankful. God I thought we’d be paying this off for the rest of our lives.” Since the day she’d started working she’d started helping pay for his medical expenses, despite having a child and house of her own to uphold, she’d put any spare cash she had towards him. He’d protested until he was blue in the face, even tried to get his insurance to block any payments from her but she always found a way around it.

He could go back to school now, get his masters, maybe even his PhD and teach college, people who actually gave a shit about what he was saying instead of bored high school students who clock watched his entire lesson away. It’s exactly what he’d told Clarke. 

_Can we talk?_ He sent the message before he’d even thought it through properly, what was he going to do, demand she tell him if she’d payed for his surgery? What if she hadn’t and he’d disturbed her at eleven at night. Maybe she wasn’t even awake at this time, but something told him she was awake late. 

She sent back an address he was guessing to her apartment. Without thinking about it, he put his GPS on and started driving. The neighbourhoods slowly got nicer the further out of Arkadia he got, the houses got closer together and more upscale, the cars nicer and shinier, less trucks and more SUVs and tiny sports models. Amazingly he’d only ever been to Polis a handful of times, not being able to afford anything most these shop sold meant driving nearly an hour was a waste of a journey. But occasionally he’d brought Octavia here when she was younger and let her look in shiny shop windows at clothes they could only dream of affording. 

He parked outside a high rise block of apartments, pristine and expensive looking, even in the dark he could see colourful flowers dripping from the balcony’s. 

Inside, the place screamed modern money, marbled fixtures and plush carpets lined his way to Clarkes door. The golden 100 shone under the fluorescent light of the hallway. He knocked and waited, faint music thumped inside and masked the sound of her footsteps coming to the door. 

He got a sudden feeling of dread, a feeling he shouldn’t have come. What if he was disturbing her? It was nearly midnight, she could have been asleep despite his stupid feeling of her being a night owl. What if she had a boyfriend and he was intruding on something?

He’d gone too far into his own thoughts when the flung the door open, making him jump more than it should have. He was more unprepared for the sight of her in denim shorts and a paint stained white tank top. 

“Hey” she smiled easily, pulling the door open wider so he could move past her. He’d never really thought about what her apartment would be like, never really had a reason to. He never dreamt he’d actually be coming here on a whim, but here he was anyway. The walls were lined with artwork, an array of pretty watercolours to abstract shapes he was sure meant something if you knew what you were looking for. Thank you cards and sympathy cards lined every flat surface, but it was Gus’s gold framed picture that caught his eye.

“That’s my favourite” She told him quietly, a gentle smile gracing her lips. 

“He’d love that, having his picture framed on your wall”

“Well it’s a good picture”

“Are all these yours?” He gestured towards to canvases hung up.

“Most of them yeah, mainly from my college days – the ones not good enough to sell” She gave him a mischievous smirk “Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee, vodka?”

He laughed “Just water, thanks”

She brought him a glass of water and gestured for him to sit on the sofa, he sunk in blissfully and he thought this must be what actual comfort feels like, not like the cheap ancient two piece that was in his house.

“So what did you want to talk about?” There was no suspicion in her tone which made him doubt his theory, but he’d come this far.

“Somebody paid off my medical bills” he told her, looking intently into his water like it was the most interesting thing in the world right now.

“Bellamy that’s great, that must be such a relief” she touched his arm and his heart sped up, electric currents running where her hand was. When did he become such a love sick teenager?

“I can’t even explain how much of a relief it is, honestly. I just cant imagine who would spend that kind of money on my surgery” he looked up then, staring straight into her ocean blue eyes, watching warily. 

“A lot of people care about you, I think your birthday proved that” she said carefully, measured. 

“Everyone at that party is from the same small town as me, no one there has that kind of money”

“Maybe they pooled together” She suggested, raising her eyebrow at him.

“Maybe” he conceded “but it would take a hell of a lot, and my friends are the worst at keeping secrets, they’d have definitely let the cat out the bag by now”

She sat back, looking completive. “Well damn, looks like you’ll never know. Maybe you should just take the gesture of good will and do something crazy like follow your dreams of getting your PhD”

He smiled half heartedly, looking back down at his lap, feeling nervous and awkward “I could never pay you that money back, my payment plan was basically most of my wage, I only kept aside what I really needed for food and bills”

“I don’t know why you think I have that kind of money” She smirked, her head resting against the sofa cushion, blonde hair fanning out behind her and falling over her face. He longed to brush it aside, to feel her skin on his, but he refrained. Instead he looked pointedly around at the apartment he could only dream of affording. “Okay” She laughed “Point taken, but you still don’t know it was me”

“Well I told you I couldn’t afford to pay for the surgery and my Masters and suddenly its all payed off and going back to school is back on the table.”

“Would you have preferred I pay for college instead?” She smirked playfully, Bellamy ducked his head.

“Why? You didn’t have to do that for me, I was surviving just fine”

“Life is about more than just surviving, you have to live, follow your dreams”

“Why me?” He asked quietly, still not quite believing it, people like him didn’t get this kind of luck. 

“They used everything they could from my father, all his organs, skin, literally everything.” She chewed on her lip and shook her head slightly “I’ve met a few families now who received organs, two of which were getting married, and another one who was days away from dying and his last wish was to walk to daughter down the aisle, he had a kidney transplant and recovered in time to do it. All these families begged me to go to the weddings, but I was sort of there as a prop, they’d introduce me as daughter of their donor and use me as their sob story, you didn’t, I think you were the only person who actually had a proper conversation with me. You called on me when you needed help and I appreciate that. You saw me as more than a sad story to tell”

He wasn’t sure how to respond, he wouldn’t dream of parading her around telling everyone who she was to him, how it must feel to lose someone you love that much and for people to so heartlessly use her like that. 

“Besides, you deserve it” he blinked at her words, saddened that no, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of this. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this besides being a shitty person with a bad heart. 

“I could never repay you” He told her again, sad and quiet. She smiled at him kindly and shook her head.

“I never asked you to. I never even told you it was me, what makes you think I want repaying?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do”

He hand reached forward to brush his too long hair off his forehead, the gesture was gentle and sweet but her hand burned a permanent mark into his skin. “No, the right thing to do was what I did. I meant it when I said you cant put a price on a human life. You shouldn’t have to live in debt for the rest of your life just because you wanted to survive past thirty”

There was a heavy silence, but his thoughts were screaming, almost deafening him and begging him to just tell her. “I know about the hospital” He said too quickly, but she heard anyway “about them turning his life machine off too soon”

Her mouth dropped open a little in shock, a sharp intake of breath through parted lips “How could you know that?”

He looked away, embarrassed and ashamed that he’d brought it up when he knew it was already a great cause of pain for her. “My friends, they heard you arguing with Maya and their research can be a little less than legal”

She shook her head and closed her eyes, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “You’re not supposed to know about that. It doesn’t matter anyway, its done – just live your life and ignore what you hear about it.”

Did she really think he could ignore this? When his donors life could have been saved and instead he was sitting here, healthier than ever comforting their daughter? Did she think he could ignore how much she was hurting? “Do you really think it was sabotage?”

Her eyes flew open, fear and trepidation shining bright. “Yes” she whispered “But no one believes me. They think its just my way of grieving, they think I’m in denial. Everyone’s telling me to drop it but I can’t”

“I believe you” He told her, and without a shadow of a doubt he did. He understood grief and pain and denial, but he also believed in the certainty of the look in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, you shouldn’t get involved. You should just forget about me and this mess I’m getting myself into”

His gaze flitted to her lips, his mind was screaming again, arguing with himself to just leave – take her advice and not get caught up. She was right, this was going to turn into a mess, and getting feelings involved was going to make it worse. “What if I don’t want to forget you?”

“Bellamy” She sighed, looking over him sadly, “You shouldn’t – ”

He cut her off when he pressed his lips to hers, silencing the screaming in his head and setting his heart alight. She paused, and for a dreadful moment he was worried he’d made a terrible mistake, but her hands came up to cup his face and move her lips with his. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her in closer and hoping to god this moment would last forever. 

But she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, her breath coming out short and fanning his nose. “I’m trouble” She warned him as her thumbs rubbed lightly over his cheekbones.

“I know” he smiled, and she smiled back at him, beautiful and radiant. “I don’t care though”

“You should, I don’t want to hurt you by dragging you into this mess”

“Hey” he leant forward to touch his lips to her again, gentle and chaste this time. “You’re not dragging me anywhere. I’m coming willingly, if you are?”

She nodded and moved her hand down to his chest, one hand over his rapidly beating heart. 

He was too far gone now to consider ever forgetting about her, not that he ever could.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, i remembered how to update!

“You can’t wear that” Octavia announced from her place on the sofa, legs thrown over the arm and fanning herself with yesterdays newspaper. The early august heat was was simmering up to boiling point, local news were threatening a water ban if the drought continued.

“Why not?” He frowned, looking down at his shirt and freshly pressed trousers, he looked nice, he was going for smart casual, and achieved it too.

“Because its two hundred degrees outside, you look like a teacher and you’re going to a mid range restaurant – taking a stupidly rich girl to a mid range fake Italian restaurant.”

“First of all, you know I don’t get that warm, I _am_ a teacher, most of my clothes are what I teach in, or used to teach – am going to teach in, whatever. Also she chose the restaurant, what was I supposed to say?”

“No?”

“I’m not going to tell her no to going to a place she chose, O”

Octavia frowned, looking completive, torn. “You should have just not asked her out in the first place”

He turned to properly look at her, she’d sat up now, sinking into the too soft faded blue sofa. She stared down at her hands wrung in her lap, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why not?” He demanded, she was the one who went on how pretty and nice Clarke was, now all of a sudden she had a problem with him dating her.

“Because its weird! You’ve got her dead fathers heart. I feel like she’s using you as a way of coping”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and turned away, rolling his shirt sleeves up to make him look a bit less teacher like and a bit more…cooler? Was that the look he was going for at thirty? He didn’t know anymore. His dating game had been the least of his worries the last five years since he broke up with Gina, now he was rusty and didn’t have a clue what people did on dates anymore. He tried to squash the panic that was setting in, but it kept bubbling to the surface.

“It’s not weird. We’ve agreed to not look at it like that, we’re going on a date just as Bellamy and Clarke, getting to know each other like a normal couple would. Besides, her way of coping is to sue half of Polis”

Octavia scoffed “Yeah that’s another thing, how long until she pisses the wrong person off and ends up in some serious shit? My guess is not long”

“It’s not going to come to that” he brushed her off, she was being over protective, he was the same when she started dating Lincoln so he couldn’t really get too mad. “She just wants justice, I’d be the same if it were you”

“I know” She murmured quietly “I just worry about you, you didn’t come all this way and finally get a working heart just for it to get broken”

He kissed her head and grabbed his keys “Yeah, well imagine how I felt when you came home pregnant at eighteen”

Octavia grumbled and rolled her eyes “It worked out fine didn’t it?”

Bellamy peered out the window “Gus is peeing in the bushes again”

“Dammit Gus!” She jumped up from the sofa and ran to the window “I told you, not in the stinging bushes!”

“Bye” He muttered quickly and made a dash to his truck. The restaurant Clarke had chosen was good halfway point, about twenty minutes from each of them, not exactly the diners with grubby floors and cracked vinyl booths that occupied Arkadia, but not the upscale fine dining restaurants that flooded Polis either. Though it was probably closer to what he was used to, he was just happy he didn’t have to take her to Murphy’s Diner.

He couldn’t see her car in the parking lot, and his lack of dating experience became clear. Was he supposed to wait here for her? Outside the door? Should he go in and get the table? Damn was he supposed to bring her flowers? Would it have been weird to bring flowers to a restaurant?

He really should have got some advice before coming, advice that wasn’t from Octavia at least.

Luckily she pulled into the lot then, her shiny and sleek car putting his rusting old truck to shame. It was a reminder of the completely different worlds they’d come from, but he pushed the thought away and flung opened the truck door, narrowly missing the car next to him and hopped out as Clarke was climbing out. He met her halfway, luckily having a few seconds to calm himself at the sight of her – long blonde hair curled and falling effortlessly down her shoulders, her maroon dress barely scraping halfway down her thighs, it was sinful to look that good.

“Hey” she smiled when they finally met, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She smelt like soap and expensive floral perfume.

“Hey” he murmured, his hands going to her waist as she hovered by his cheek “you look good”

“Thanks, so do you” she stepped back and looked at his navy shirt, a bit tighter around his chest around arms now he wasn’t withering away. As much as Murphy mocked him for gardening it was doing some good.

He kept a hand in the small of her back as they walked to the restaurant, it was newish, he’d never been before but had heard good things – but that was coming from people who ate in diners, not from people who ate in fine dining restaurants.

“Have you ever been here before?” He asked mildly as he pushed the door to the foyer open for her, the air con hit him and he shuddered, Clarke smirked up at him.

“Never, but I heard they do really good fake Italian food” she told him, smiling slyly.

“I bet you’re used to fancy Italian places in polis though”

“Yeah” She snorts “The ones that give you the tiniest portions in the world and charge over a hundred dollars for the pleasure. I usually end up in the pizza place on the way home”

Bellamy smiled fondly, for all the times his friends and sister had told him she’d be a stuck up rich girl with no interest in a high school history teacher, she proved that was as down to earth as he was, she just had different experiences, that didn’t make her a bad person. If he’d had the opportunities to go to high class restaurants he’d have taken them.

“I like your shirt by the way” she changed the subject “It’s a good colour on you”

“You know” he said, pushing the restaurant door open for her “My sister said I look like a teacher. I pointed out that I _am_ a teacher” he rolled his eyes and she smirked.

“Well if my history teacher looked anything like you I’d have payed a hell of a lot more attention in school”

He snorted and guided her to the hostess stand, the place was a lot busier than he’d anticipated for a Thursday night. He regretted not making a reservation now. His hand ran down to her waist by its own volition as they waited for someone to greet them. She leant into it a little, angling her body towards him. 

“I bet you went to a really posh private school, didn’t you”

She ducked her head and laughed “All girls private school, we had a uniform and everything”

“I knew it” He smirked, squeezing her waist a little, he was about to make a comment about her uniform when his thoughts were interrupted.

“Bellamy? Bellamy Blake?”

His head shot up sharply – shit.

“Gina?” He asked incredulously, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know you worked here”

“My husband owns it, I just do front of house stuff. How are you? I heard about the heart transplant, congratulations” she smiled warmly, and Clarke stiffened next to him.

“Yeah, thanks” he muttered. Looking between the two, Gina seemed to sense the change in atmosphere and picked up two menus.

“There’s a table in a quiet corner in the back free, follow me”

In a dim corner of the restaurant, pushed right to the back he pulled out Clarkes chair. She smiled softly at him as he sat down, pulling her dress under her.

“So I didn’t expect my ex girlfriend to be serving us” he muttered when he was certain Gina was out of earshot. Clarkes eyes widened comically.

“That’s your ex girlfriend?”

“Yep, broke up with her five years ago when a transplant wasn’t looking likely.”

“Well you’ve had one now, she pretty – I wouldn’t hold it against you if you tried to get her back.” There was a playful glint in her eyes, he shoved her foot under the table with his.

“I think I’m too little too late, she’s married now”

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me now”

“Looks like it” He sighed in mock sadness and she laughed lightly.

They talked about their jobs over dinner, about their school days and Octavia’s rebellion stories. She told him about the time her father made her a tree house and the ladders fell down as soon as they got up there.

“We tried shouting for help but our parents thought we were playing a game and having too much fun to come down. It wasn’t until it got dark and my mom came to tell us to come inside that they realised we were actually stuck up there. I’ve never seen Wells so scared, he never did recover from that” She laughed, soft and musical.

“I tried building Octavia a tree house when she was seven…maybe eight? I searched all summer for enough wood to make it, finally got it finished and my foot went straight through it when I went to test it out. I had to get six stitches in my ankle, my mom was so angry about it” he shook his head, remembering sitting in the emergency room with his ranting mother and pouting sister.

“At least it was the thought that counts” she said with a grin.

“Try telling that to my eight year old sister, she was distraught for weeks and my mom wouldn’t let me fix it. Murphy and I tore it down at the end of summer and put it on a bonfire”

Clarke snorted “I bet that pleased Octavia even less”

“Oh trust me, she still talks about it to this day, says I’m not aloud to make one for Gus even though I know not to use rotten wood this time”

He doesn’t know why it suddenly caught his attention, but he looked around him and was shocked by how quiet the place had gotten “Shit” he hissed, looking down at his watch “It’s almost closing time”

“Oh my god” Clarke laughed, looking around the restaurant like she was seeing it for the first time. “Where did the time go?”

He wanted to say something cheesy like he was getting lost in her eyes, but he refrained, instead pulling out his wallet and going to find someone to pay.

“Good date?” Gina asked, handing him the bill with a smile.

“Yeah, great thanks” He muttered awkwardly, courting the bills in his wallet.

“So I er – spoke to Raven yesterday, she said she’s your heart donors daughter?”

His head snapped up sharply “Yeah, what of it?” He snapped, and Gina averted her gaze.

“It’s just, I know how you felt, the guilt of someone dying so you could live. This isn’t some sort of coping mechanism is it? For both of you”

Of course Raven would have fully filled her in on everything. She took the break up harder than him and Gina combined. He knew they still spoke regularly, he just wished he wasn’t a topic of those conversations.

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business” He told her evenly as she printed off his receipt.

“No, of course not” she sighed “I just don’t want to see you get hurt” She told him gently, of course she was only looking out for his best interests, that’s what she’s always done.

“We’re just seeing where it goes, its not like I’m buying a ring”

“Well if you do remember where you had your first date” She winked, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“Yeah yeah” he smiled “it was good seeing you”

“You too”

Clarke was already putting her bag over shoulder when he got back to the table. “Ready to go?” He asked, she nodded and looped her arm through his as they walked out to the cars. Despite the setting sun, the air was still warm and dry, no sign of a chill coming anytime soon. The horizon was turning a deep orange, making the trees stand out black. “I love this time of day” He says wistfully, stars would start dotting the sky soon and the threat of nightmares plaguing his dreams would soon take over, but until then the red band across the sky promised another beautiful day tomorrow, and that gave him hope still.

“I bet you can see the stars clearly out here, you can never see them in Polis, its too bright” Theres a hint of sadness in her voice, Arcadia’s only a small town, so once darkness blankets them the lights go out and the stars shine bright.

“I’ll show them you someday” he promised. “I know a good spot”. She grinned brightly up at him, putting the beauty of the sunset to shame. He leant, unable to stop himself and pressed his lips against hers, soft and slow. She stood on her tiptoes to meet him, one hand snaked around the back of his neck and the other gripping his shirt. He held onto her waist, letting himself get lost in her, her smell, her touch, they way her lips moved against his. “Coffee” he asked, for head resting against her, suddenly breathless despite having stood in the same spot. “My place”

She didn’t even hesitate to nod enthusiastically.

“You know the way?”

“I’ll follow you” She promised.

He tried not to think about anything other than the road in front of him on the way home, she parked next to him on the driveway, and for the first time he had sweaty palms. He tried to be subtle and wipe them on his trousers. Clarkes door shut softly behind her, and she smirked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Hey”

“Hey” he grinned, taking her hand and leading her up to the house.

“So…coffee?” She simpered, winding her arms around his neck and reaching up to kiss him.

“Yeah I don’t keep coffee in the house” he smiled against her lips “Bad for your heart”

She pulled back in mock outrage “So I came all this way just so you could kiss me?”

“Pretty much yeah”

She shrugged “Okay” and and let him walk her backwards to the sofa, unceremoniously dumping her purse on the floor and dragging him down to the sofa. She fit perfectly under him, leg hitched up at his side. His mouth never left hers as he lowered her down on her back. And god he could just do this for the rest of his days, her gasping and making tiny moaning noises into his mouth was enough to almost tip him over the edge. He grasped her hips, pulling them from the sinking cushions to meet his as she clung desperately to the back of his shirt.

They were going far enough that he should probably stop and ask her if she was sure she wanted to carry on, considering his hand had found its way under her dress and she was working on the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t get chance to ask though, he was interrupted by his phone screaming in his pocket.

“Fuck” he hissed and he pulled his phone out, Clarke fell back onto the sofa with a huff. Murphy’s name flashed up on the screen, he rejected the call and let the phone drop on the floor. “Sorry about that”

In response she leant back up to him covered his mouth with hers. He wound his arms around her waist, keeping her close, her hands were warm on the back of his neck as she deepened the kiss – the groaned as his phone went off again.

“Ignore it” He murmured into her mouth, she grinned in response. Just as he’d lowered her down again, suggestion of taking _this _upstairs lingering on his lips, when Clarkes phone buzzed in her purse on the floor.

She leant down to fish it out her purse, and threw him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I really need to answer this”

Bellamy sat back to give her space, and watched as the she completely transformed, no longer sweet and giggly, she was cold as she snapped “What do you want?” Into her phone.

He knew he shouldn’t be listening, he knew it was rude but he couldn’t help it. This was a side to Clarke he was yet to learn.

“Okay” She sighs, pushing her hair out of her face in his frustration. “We knew this was a possibility though. Do you think there’s actually any grounds for it?” She shakes her head, and Bellamy’s desperate to ask what the hells going on, but its not his place, not right now. “I’m coming home now, meet me at mine” She clicks off the phone and gives him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry” she says, swinging her legs around to sit up. “That was my lawyer, there’s been a development”

“Is everything alright?” He questions lightly, trying not to sound like he’s too eager to know what’s going on.

“Yeah, it will be. I just really need to sort this out.” She kisses his cheek and picks her purse up. He lets her out, she promises she’ll text him tomorrow, but she’s distracted even as she says it.

He picks him phone up from where he dumped it on the floor and calls Murphy back on the off chance he’s burnt the diner down or something.

“He lives” He can practically hear Murphy’s smirk over the phone, he already wants to hang up.

“Did you need me for anything? Or just thought at ten pm phone call was a fun idea?” Bellamy demands.

There’s a pause on the other end, Bellamy thinks the line might have gone dead for a minute, then Murphy finally says “I saw an expensive looking car parked next to your truck, and Raven said you went on a date with Clarke. I was seeing if you got lucky” He says it lightly, but there’s a tone of disapproval there.

“So you thought I might be getting lucky and decided to call me, while I could have been doing anything?”

Theres another pause, this time Bellamy thinks it might have been from disgust “Please tell me you’re not phoning after you’ve had sex, I don’t think I could handle the mental image”

Bellamy snorts “Murphy, rest assured you’re the last person I’d phone after having sex”

“Thank god for that” Murphy huffs “But seriously, is she still there?”

“She was until five minutes ago, her lawyer called and she had to go.”

“Ooh, sounds serious”

“Look” Bellamy sighs, already tired of this conversation “I know you think she’s trouble, but can you please just trust me enough to look after my own love life”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you” Murphy scoffs “It’s just that we think dating clarke is – well it’s unhealthy, for both of you. And she’s obviously wrapped up in some shady shit, maybe it’s best if you just let it be for a while”

“I’ll think about it” he lies “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed” He hangs up before Murphy can respond. He knows his friends are just looking out for him, and honestly if it was one of them in that situation he’d be sceptical too. But he knows his own feelings, he knows he likes Clarke for more than what she should be to him. He knows his feelings are genuine and not just a projection. So he puts his conversation with Murphy out his head and goes to bed.

+

Rain falls mercilessly against the darkened windows, the woman in front of him is angry, red faced spitting angry. He’s angry too, though. Angry and frustrated, his fists ball up at his sides, he can barely hear what the woman in front of him is saying.

“I have to” He finds himself shouting back at her. “I have to go public about this. Ive tried talking but it’s not working, the only way to get them to listen is to tell the people what they deserve to know”

She looks away from him, a bitter look comes over her face. He loves her, he knows that much – but right now they’re at breaking point.

“This is a bad idea. I can’t keep having this conversation with you. We’ll talk to the lawyers, they’ll have to listen if we get the lawyers involved. But if you don’t think they’ll retaliate to you going public you’ve got another thing coming Jake”

He shakes his head, she’s right, they cant keep having this conversation, he knows he’s got to do something, now. It’s already too late, the plans are already in motion and he has to stop them.

“I’m going to see Clarke” He snaps, stalking towards the closet to get his coat out.

“No” Theres a desperation to her voice now, she’s glaring hard at him. “Don’t you dare bring Clarke into this. This has nothing to do with her”

“It has everything to do with her” He snarls “This affects her too.”

Theres tears in her eyes now, threatening to spill at any moment. “I’m begging you Jake, leave her out of this. This is going to go bad and I don’t want her involved”

“I’m not asking her to get involved, but she has a right to know what’s happening”

“But she will get involved, because that’s who she is. If you want to put yourself in danger doing this then that’s up to you, but I wont let you drag Clarke down with you”

“I’m not dragging Clarke down, Abby” he tells her as evenly as he can, trying desperately hard to calm down now, don’t drive angry. “But she has a right to know”.

He takes his car keys, and her voice cracks “Please don’t drive in this storm, just stay, we’ll talk it through just don’t leave”

Tears are falling freely down her face now, and a part of him wants to stay, but that’s not the part of him the wins. The winds strong outside, rain blows into his face, he turns away slightly, trying to shield himself. “I’ll be back soon” He tells her as he closes the door, harder than he intended but the wind catches it and slams it behind him.

He jogs down towards his car, the dark blue barely visible from the storm. He shuts the door just as a bolt of lightening lights up the night sky.

Bellamy wakes with a jolt, his heart racing and sweat beading down his forehead. It’s been a long time since he’d had a dream that vivid and familiar. He can’t get the vision of the car from his head – the same car that was wrapped around a tree in the papers after Jake Griffins crash.

The rooms too hot, even with the covers kicked off he cant cool down. Checking his phone, he’s slept in later than he usually does.

He tries to quell the disappointment bubbling when there were no texts or calls off Clarke. But its still early, so he puts it out his head and goes downstairs for breakfast.

He tries his best for the rest of the day to keep busy. Now he’ll have a decent income without medical bills coming out he can actually think about updating the house. It hast been redecorated since before he was born, everything is sorely outdated, the wallpapers beginning to peel and the kitchen cupboards are falling off.

He knows he wants to start with the kitchen, but he honestly has no idea what he’s doing when in comes to interior design. He looks on a few websites, but when it becomes clear that he has no idea what he actually wants to do with it, he ends up clicking off them.

Checking his phone again, still no word from Clarke. He sends her a text, but it goes unseen. He’s trying his best not to worry, not to over analyse everything that he said and did last night that would warrant her not texting him back, but he comes up blank. He puts it down to her lawyer phoning, and new surge of concern comes over him. He has no idea what she’s getting herself into, he made sure not to ask last night – he’s trying to keep out of it for his own sanity.

He tries to distract himself again, he asks Octavia about the kitchen, but she tells him she’s got the creativity of a snail, so she proves to be as useless as him in that department. Once again he finds himself wishing Clarke was talking to him, she was an artist, she’d know how to help.

It was radio silence the next day too, he decided to annoy Murphy at the diner to pass some time away. He told him to just forget about Clarke, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen.

Finally, after darkness blanketed the town, he decided he’d had enough. If she wasn’t going to answer her phone, she’d at least have to talk to him face to face. It wasn’t even the sting of rejection, though that did hurt – it was more the worry. Something wasn’t sitting right, his heart was telling him there was something happening.

So he drove to Clarke apartment, telling himself that this wasn’t at all stalkerish or creepy after one date.

He was jittery in the elevator, thinking maybe this actually wasn’t the best plan, but he was here now.

Hesitating for just a moment, he knocks on the door with a bit too much force. No one answers for a minute, and he worries that she’s in bed or not in, but the door opens, and he steps back in surprise.

“Niylah?” It’s not who expected to answer, and now he’s worried he’s woke the wrong person up.

“Bellamy” She smiles, though she’s just as shocked as he is. “What are you doing here?”

He pauses, why is he here apart from going a bit stir crazy from a girl he went on one date with not texting him back. “Is Clarke there?”

Niylah frowns a little, giving him a critical look over. She steps out and closes the door behind her softly. “She is, why?”

“I was hoping to talk to her?” It wasn’t meant to sound like a question, but somehow he made it sound like one anyway.

Niylah’s quiet, the critical look still on her face. “Oh” she finally says. “The dreams of the crash, the heart, I should have guessed”

She knows, he thinks. She doesn’t look overly impressed by it, either. “Guessed what?” He asks evenly.

“That Jake was your Donor. I know Clarkes met a few of the families, I guess I should have pieced it together”

Bellamy pauses, Clarke hasn’t told her friends about him, if what Niylah’s just said about him is anything to go by. He wonders for the first time if he’d been delusional about it, if she was being polite by saying yes to the date, or if she was using him as her way of grieving. “Is she here?” He asks through gritted teeth, Niylah’s guarding the door like a vault.

“She is” she hesitates, looking back at the door. “It’s not a great time though”

“I just want to talk to her”

Niylah sighs, looking torn. “You’re the guy she went on a date with the other night, aren’t you?”

He could deny it, but she probably wouldn’t let him in. “It’s not what you think” he sighs, because he knows his own friends reactions to them dating, Clarkes friends probably have the same. Her face softens slightly though.

“It’s a mess in there” she warns. “We’ve been working for two days straight, she’s only had about two hours sleep so she’s not in the best of the moods.”

He smiles, relieved that she didn’t immediately judge them, and that she’s letting him in to see Clarke. “I just want to see her, however she is”

Niylah finally gives him a warm smile and opened the apartment door.

She was being nice when she told him it was a mess in there. Papers strewn on every surface, the bin overflowing with takeout containers and the sink piling up with dishes. It was a far cry from the immaculate apartment he’d been in a week ago.

Sitting on the sofa was a heap of muscles - that Bellamy definitely wasn’t jealous of – and a man bun that he assumed was Clarkes Lawyer, even if his shorts and tank top wasn’t that professional.

Clarke was pacing in front of him, hair flung into a messy bun and face pale despite her tan.

“I just think we need to take advantage of the fact we don’t have it.” She was saying, the man bun shook his head.

“No” he snapped, sounding as exasperated as Clarke looked. “You need to keep your mouth shut for a change so they don’t get any ideas. With any luck they haven’t even thought of it and we use _that _as an advantage”

“What about if they put it in place before we get chance to say anything?”

“Clarke we haven’t got anything to say, you need to stop making presumptions and get some actual proof.”

“I have proof” Clarke snapped, a venomous look in her eyes that Bellamy didn’t think she was capable of. “I just cant get into it because there’s more security on that thing than outside Fort Knox”

“Clarke” Niylah finally interrupted, which he was grateful for. He wasn’t going to be the one to interrupt whatever was going on here.

Clarke ignored her though, instead crouching down in front of an open laptop on the coffee table.

“Just stop” Man bun snapped “If you couldn’t do it the first hundred times you wont be able to do it this time.”

Clarkes just about to reply, but Niylah cuts her off by calling her name again, louder and more demanding this time. Clarke looks up sharply and barked “What?” Niylah jerked her head towards Bellamy. There was a cold look in her eyes that he didn’t recognise as she said “What are you doing here?”

Bellamy scoffed, feeling every bit the fool he now realised he was. He’d let his feelings take over and he’d stormed over here because of a couple days of silence when she was clearly in a mess. He was probably the last person she wanted to see right now. “Sorry” He muttered, trying to push away the embarrassment “I’ll go”

“No” She shouted suddenly, making him jump a bit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that”

He paused, her tone was softer now, apologetic. “Just – come in he kitchen, I’ll explain” he followed her without a word, and let the tense silence wash over him as the shut the kitchen door. “I’m sorry” She says again, quiet and remorseful. “I honestly didn’t mean to snap at you, its just – its been a hell of a couple of days”

“What’s going on? I thought it went really well on Thursday then you just blocked me out”

She shakes her head, staring hard at ground “I didn’t mean to do that either, Wallace and Son are suing me for deformation of Character, its only a matter of time before I get a Cease and Desist so I can talk about them”

“Jesus, Clarke” He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair, this was much worse than when he thought she was ignoring him because she didn’t like him. “What are you going to do?”

She looks at him, tears filling her ocean blue eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. She bit down hard on her lip and he ached to take the pain away from her. “I don’t know” her voice was barely a whisper, but Bellamy heard her. “There’s evidence on my dads laptop, but we can’t get into it. I’ve tried everything but nothing seems to work. Everyone thinks I’m a liar or crazy, they’re saying its just my way of grieving but I know somethings not right with Wallace. My dad wouldn’t have been driving late at night in a storm like that if whatever he was going to tell me wasn’t important.”

He thinks of his dream, the argument and the woman begging him not to go public and not bring Clarke into it. If this is another memory, he knows Clarkes telling the truth about it being important. He pulls her in close and wraps his arms around her, she’s a force of nature, but here in his arms she’s warm and delicate. If she would let him, he’d never let her go.

“I believe you” he whispers into her hair. She leans her head on his chest and clutches him tight, he knows she’s strong and fierce, but there’s a soft side that he feels is private, a side she’s too afraid to show the world that’s begging her to be weak.

“You don’t have to stay” she sniffs “I’m know I’m a mess right now, you shouldn’t have to be dragged into this”

“You’re not dragging me into anything, I’m coming willingly. Plus you’re out of a hot mess so it evens it out” she laughs in his arms, and he finds himself relaxing a bit. “I might have a way to get into the laptop”

She pulls back to smile at him, before he’s even registered it, her mouth is on him, taking away all coherent thoughts. “I think that can wait until tomorrow, how about I kick Roan and Niylah out and we finish what we started the other night?”

“That plan sounds better than mine” he agreed, and maybe it was going to be alright.


	5. Part 5

Roan had told them that while hacking into Jake Griffins laptop wasn’t illegal per se, he definitely wasn’t having anything to do with it until they had the information they needed. 

Which was fine by Bellamy, the less he had to see him, the better. Clarke had been told to step back from the case against her until Roan and Niylah had a plan. That meant he was distracting her from looking up things online and texting Roan for an update. 

Now that was something he was good at. It worked for a while, but she’s a force of nature and now his kitchens covered in sample paints, he has no idea what he’s looking at.

“I like the sage” she says, looking completive at a row of colour swatches. There was a stack on tiny paint pots on the floor, Clarke had raided the towns only DIY store of green paint samples. Now they’re covering his wall in neat little rectangles.

He frowns, there was a reason he got Clarke to do this with him, because he hasn’t got a clue. If he was left to his own devices it would probably all just be white and plain – Clarke looked disgusted when he told her that. 

“I don’t know which one that is” he tells her honestly and she rolls her eyes, picking up a pencil and writing sage in big letters over a green patch. They were all green though, just different shades or whatever. He was sort of regretting telling her he liked the colour green. “Is it too dark?”

Her mouth twists and her head cocks to the side, appraising it seriously. “Maybe a bit, there’s enough natural light in here though”

“I thought we could go with a lighter colour for the wall and darker for the cabinets?”

She looks up at him, a shocked laugh bubbling over “was that you actually having a creative input?”

He blushes, wondering it was a mistake “would that look stupid?”

“No” she says quickly “not at all, I actually really like it, the navy cabinets?”

“With the gold handles” he nods and she throws her arms around his neck. He laughs as he hugs her back tightly.

“We’ve finally got somewhere” she rejoices “I thought you were going to make me make all the decisions”

“Nah, just long enough to watch to you sweat. I like that green colour, the light one”

She looks back at the wall or patchwork green. “Bellamy they’re all green”

“Yeah but the light one”

“Bellamy – ”

“Two to the left of Sage”

She squints at the wall, then declares “tea!”

“I’m fine with just water” it earns his pat to the chest, but he grins none the less when she writes Green tea over the patch and underlines it twice. She slumps against the counter and grins at him, she’s decidedly lighter than the day he barged into her apartment, she’s slept now, and eaten actual food. He’s not mentioned the case at all, despite his own burning questions. It’s better for both of them to live in a bubble. He wishes they could stay like this, blissfully ignorant about what’s going on in the outside world, but she’s going to work soon and he has a favour to cash in with Monty.

“I love this house” she smiles wistfully as she looks around his kitchen, it’s old and rickety, falling apart and horribly outdated. “It’s got…character. Everything in Polis feels cold in comparison, everything’s new and shiny”

He watches her carefully, wondering if she’d be cut out for this life, small town gossip and the same old routine. People stared at her here, scowled at her car and her clothes. His routine was mind numbing before she came along. It’s the same for everyone, he swore he’d get out of here someday, but really he can’t bear the thought of leaving this house behind. Sure, it would go to Octavia and Lincoln, Gus would grow up here, there would be laughter and happiness again, but Octavia wasn’t keen on the idea of moving in here. He thought it was because he could live there rent free while he wasn’t working, but Octavia had made her home elsewhere.

“My grandfather built this house from nothing but a plot of land as a wedding present for my grandmother” her eyes widen in awe and let’s out a surprised laugh. He’d heard the story countless times growing up, he never imagined loving someone as much as his grandparents loved each other, he never thought he’d get the chance so he didn’t bother letting himself fall into the fantasy. But standing here now, Clarke looking at him like that, he gets it. He gets how his grandfather would spend months in the wind and rain building this house with only love keeping him going. He gets it. 

“That’s so romantic” she sighs “I couldn’t imagine someone loving me so much they built a house for me” 

“Me neither” but he can, because he’d do it for her. It’s probably not healthy to fall so hard and fast, but then she smiles at him like he’s the only person in the world it makes sense. 

“I got you a new heart, does that count?”

“You didn’t give me the heart” he scoffs “it’s absolutely not the same thing”

She smirks, and there’s a retort there, but it’s cut off by her phone buzzing, and the retorts replaced with a sigh “I really need to get to work before Luna beats me up, and she could”

He smiles ruefully, but there’s a life outside this bubble, in September he’ll have a life back, teaching part time, then hopefully full time until he gets onto his masters. He’ll be lesson planning and marking, he’ll have a routine and a new normal. As much as he’s looking forward to it, he likes this normal. He likes Clarke being around before she goes to work, and coming home after and collapsing on the couch ranting about Artists she hates. He likes looking at tiles and paint samples that’s so domestic he knows he needs to pull back before he gets hurt, but he cant bring himself to do it. 

“I’ll see you later” she kissed his cheek as she grabs the bag from the table.

“Yeah” he agrees ruefully “Later”

The door shuts behind her and he wonders how his days went by with no one here with him. Maybe he used to enjoy being on his own, but he was never really on his own. He had his sister and his friends.

No, he was never lonely, he just missed her. 

He made himself busy cleaning up the mess they made in the kitchen when the door opens then slams shut and a tiny hurricane wraps their arms around his legs.

“Hey kid” He smiles as Gus beams up at him. “Where’s your mom?”

“In there” he points to the living room “She said I can play in the garden”

“Sure, go” Gus unwraps himself and runs off out the backdoor, no doubt to cause mass destruction in the garden. Octavia smiles sheepishly from where she’s leant against the doorway.

“Sorry, he had like two sips from my can of coke when I wasn’t looking and – ” she gestures towards where Gus is running circles around his freshly raked lawn. He tried not to show he was too disappointed. “It looks like a Home Depot exploded in here”

“It’s fine, I’m redecorating the kitchen, we picked some colour samples up and looked at cabinets”

Octavia raises an eyebrow as she looks around “We?”

“Yeah” he answers quickly, defensively “Clarke and me, is that alright?”

She looks away, biting her lip – it’s a look he knows all too well. It’s stubborn and conflicted, she’s about to say something he doesn’t like, something he definitely wont like because he already knows what she’s thinking, what everyone’s thinking when they look at them together.

“I get it” he says quickly, before she can burst his bubble, its already thin and fragile but he loves it. “I’d be protective too – I am protective, but I – ” he loves her, its more than a new heart and sense of gratitude, she’s serious and light, funny and clever and so goddamn beautiful he wonders what in the hell she’s doing here, but she is and he wont question it. “I really like her, okay? Not just because of her father, not because they saved me or I’m using her as a coping mechanism or whatever you’re thinking, I like her”

Octavia smiles, it’s a bit sad and cautious, but it reaches her eyes. “I know you do, and that’s what worries me”

“Me liking a girl worries you?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks, Octavia just rolls her eyes and looks out the window to Gus jumping under the tree, trying to reach the higher branches. As a child, he’d tried to do that too, jumped so high for so long he’d collapsed on the floor and started going blue. He didn’t understand it then, why he couldn’t do what his friends were doing, running and jumping and climbing up trees, riding their bikes to the top of the highest hill and whizzing down with their legs up, pedals skimming their ankles. He could never express how nice it is to watch Gus being a kid, carefree and lighthearted. 

“Not like you think, and I know you think I don’t like you two together because of the – ” she gestures to his chest, the fading scar under his shirt “but its not. It’s just, we all accepted a long time ago – even before mom died that you didn’t want to get married or have children, even though I know you wanted it, you wouldn’t let yourself want it. But now you can, you can get married and have a family, do all the things you wouldn’t before.”

“Right” Bellamy frowns “and you think because I’m with Clarke I cant do that?”

“You can, but does she want it? Does she want to get married and have children? Does she want to live in a house that needs complete restoration? Does she want to live in a small town? This life is so different from hers in Polis, does she want to give that up? Have you asked those questions?”

He takes pause, no – he hasn’t asked those questions. Sure, she’s helping him with the decorating in the kitchen, but he asked for that, because he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing. It’s not just the kitchen though, its every single room, and front of the house, the creaky steps and the peeling paint. The back yards a mess that needs desperate love and attention. It’s a big job that requires dedication. 

Is it the kind of dedication she has though? He’s doing it because he’s spending the rest of his life here, wants to have children and raise them here, their children will do the same. But he doesn’t even know if she wants that. She lives a high life in a fancy apartment in the city, with a gallery and stupid amounts of disposable income. Even if she does want children, Octavia’s right; will she want to raise them here like he does? Or doe she want them to have the kind of life she had growing up, with a big house and a pool in the yard with parents who earns enough money to take her on fancy holidays and give her everything she wanted it when she wanted it.

No – he hasn’t had those kind of conversations, the answer might hurt too much. 

“I just don’t want your heart to get broken now you’ve finally got a working one” she sighs, seeing the disappointment of his face.

“I’ll have that conversation when it comes to it” he dismisses, giving her a look that says this conversations over. He might need to hear it, but he definitely doesn’t want to. Octavia nods, taking the hint and moving to look at the patches of paint smeared over the wall.

“So, green?” She asks with an arched eyebrow.

He laughs, and he tension thins “Yeah, the Green Tea colour with navy cabinets”

“Did you come up with that?”

“Yes I did” he mutters while she laughs. “What?”

“Nothing, its just – that’s a good decision, it’ll look good”

“Yeah well, having an artist as a girlfriend has its perks”

“Plus she’s like, super hot”

He laughs, all the tensions disappears now. “Plus she’s super hot” he agrees. “Come on, Clarkes not back until late, I’ll start dinner.”

He puts the conversation they had earlier to the back of his mind, but he knows the anxiety of not knowing will take over soon enough.

+

The door opens closer to midnight than he thought it would be, but he doesn’t comment. She collapses on the sofa next to him with a huff. Her fingertips are tinted blue and orange and there’s a smudge of purple on her face. He runs his thumb over her cheek, the smudge stays stubborn.

“What were you doing today?” He laughs as she dodges his thumb again.

“Meetings for a couple of hours, organising the next exhibition, then I was coming back but the sunset was really pretty and – ” she pulls her phone out her shorts pocket and shows him a photo of a canvas, a melody of colours paint the sunset over the darkened city, high rise buildings glowing in the orange sunset.

“That’s amazing” she beams at the compliment, her smile brighter than the sun “you’re amazing.” 

She grins and leans forward to kiss him, there’s a historically inaccurate battle on the television that had his undivided attention before Clarke had walked in, now he couldn’t care less about it. “I need a shower” she murmurs against his lips “Join me?”

“I don’t know” he simpers “It’s pretty late.”

“Suit yourself” she shrugs, tugging at the bottom of her paint stained shirt and pulling it over her head, leaving him to stare after her walking deliberately slowly up the stairs in nothing but her bra and shorts. He runs after her and meets her at the top of the stairs, throwing an arm around her waist and hoisting her off the ground. She shrieks out a laugh as he carries her to the bathroom. 

“I thought it was too late” she smirks when he puts her down, turning in his arms.

“I said it was pretty late, not too late”

“My mistake” she leans away from him to turn the shower on, it creaks and clangs as the waters comes through, it’ll be freezing for a while, the piping desperately needs redoing, its next on the ever-growing list. 

“I was waiting for you” he murmurs in her ear when she straightens up. “They said on the radio that we should be preserving as much water as possible, so I thought we’d best sower together, you know – for the environment”

“It’s for the best” she agrees, unhooking her bra. Any thoughts of difficult to hear conversations gone from his mind completely. They’re back in their bubble, and he never wants to leave. 

After, she sits on the edge of his bed in nothing but one of his shirts brushing through the knots in her hair, wincing when it tugs too much. 

“Come here” he smiles, sitting behind her. She hands him the brush and pushes her hair back for him. He works slowly, methodically. Smoothing out each section with care. She doesn’t wince now, quite the opposite; her eyes closed in bliss as she leans back into him. “Hair tie?” 

Her wrist comes up and he shakes his head as he peels the tie off her wrist. He starts at the top, bringing strands of golden hair into the braid, neat and precise. He’s done it a hundred times before for Octavia as a kid, but usually because she was whining and begging for him to do it. 

This feels intimate, loving in a way he’s never been before. It feels right, being here like this with her, the whole days been painfully domesticated, he knows what Octavia means, about his heart getting broken when he’s finally got a working one. Not getting the life he’s longed for with Clarke would do just that – break the heart he’s waited so long for. 

He ties the end and kisses her shoulder. He could bring it up now, but god why would he? So he lies down instead, Clarke rests her head on his shoulder and her hand over his heart. She’s asleep before he’s even had time to turn the lamp off. 

He stares at the ceiling and tries not to think of the flashes of lightening that light up his dreams and startle him awake.

But sleep soon takes over, he knows it has to eventually, there’s no point fighting it but he does anyway.

Once again he wakes up at the crack of the lightening bolt, it takes his breath and seizes his muscles. For a moment he’s frozen with fear, he knows what happens after, the car going too fast, the breaks completely unresponsive under him, the crunch of metal as he hits the tree – Clarke crying above him, begging him to hold on, to just stay.

If Jake would have stayed, Bellamy wouldn’t be here now.

The thoughts Vulgar and unwelcome, he’s not sure where it came from, but it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

“Hey” Clarke murmurs sleepily, nuzzling into his neck. It’s still dark out, the clock tells him its 3:47. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” he assures her quietly “I’m fine”

“Nightmares again?” Her arms tightens around his waist, his mouth is too dry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s early, go back to sleep”

“No you’re upset” her voice is still thick with sleep, she cant even open her eyes yet but still she’s trying to comfort him. He pull her closer, arms wrapped around her as she sighs into his neck.

“I’m not upset, I’ve got you” he swears he can feel her smile before she stops back off to sleep. He does too, but this time, there’s no dreams or nightmares, just blissful darkness. 

When he wakes next, there’s a violent morning light that’s too harsh against his eyelids. The rooms like a sauna now, Clarkes moved away from him, lying on her front on the other side of the bed, the covers completely kicked off. The braids still fully intact, running long down her back. He strokes the length of it and she stirs, blinking slowly and scowling at the too bright room. 

“Morning” he smiles, and she finally smiles back. “I think we overslept.”

“Overslept for what? It’s a Saturday” she grumbles.

She’s not a morning person, but that’s alright. 

“Nothing in particular” she shuffles over to him and lets him pull her closer. “It’s just later than I’d usually stay in bed”

“Then you’re missing out on lazy Saturday mornings in bed” 

He hums in agreement, stroking featherlight touches up her back as she drops back off to sleep. He supposes it might be early, but he likes to be up with the sun, whereas Clarkes a night person – she’ll happily spend the night drawing or painting and go to sleep when Bellamy’s waking up. Somehow they’ve found their own little routine, a compromise that means they both get enough sleep without getting too cranky. 

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, he has a good mind to just ignore it and stay in their bubble. But he knows he cant avoid the outside world forever, as much as he’d like that he checks his phone and sighs, its going to be a long day.

“Clarke” he half whispers, he’s not really sure why though, when the point was to wake her up. “Clarke” he says louder, shaking his shoulder to get her to move.

“What?”

“Can you get your dads laptop?”

She sits up then, fully awake and alert “Yeah, today?”

He nods, pulling himself to sit up with her. She pulls his arm to pull him up the last bit. “Monty’s found the software to bypass the passwords. We’re meeting him at Murphy’s this afternoon”

She grins at him, shoulders raising in glee “So we should get ready, I need to get the laptop from my moms”

“We should” he agrees, but pulls her closer to him. She takes the hint and straddles his lap. “But we’re not meeting him until two, so we’ve got time” he nips at her ear and she giggles.

“I’m sure we can spend a bit longer here”

No, he’s definitely not ready to move out of his bubble just yet.

Monty and Raven were already waiting at Murphy’s diner when he gets there, the table already filled with food and their equipment. The air con in the diner is pathetic as best, so even the floor seems to be sweating.

The cracked vinyl booth squeaks under him, it might be embarrassing if it wasn’t such a common occurrence. The entire place needed some serious work doing to it, but Murphy was cheap and said that it adds to the charm. He doesn’t tell him that there’s no charm to add to, there’s just a lack of competition in Arcadia that keeps people coming.

“You got the laptop?” Monty asked around a mouthful of fries.

“Clarkes bringing, she’s on her way from Polis”

Raven raises an eyebrow at him over her laptop “You didn’t go with her? I thought you were staying together”

He blushes slightly, luckily its hot enough that he’s already flushed so they cant see “Yeah, we’re staying at my place though. Her place is…”

“Stupidly expensive?” Raven finishes for him, it just makes him blush more.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Clarkes apartment – quite the opposite, actually. It’s was modern and spacious and covered it artwork like a gallery, but it was also cold and uninviting. He knew why she liked his house better, the history and character, it was made to be lived in, not just to look at.

“She gets her sheets professionally cleaned and they put starch or whatever in, I woke up the next morning covered in a rash, went to have a shower and didn’t understand a word of anything in there, I didn’t even know what as the shampoo or shower gel. I really like her, but being in that apartment makes me realise how different we are”

“I’d say she likes you too if she wants to stay in your house that’s falling apart and not in an apartment that probably costs half this towns worth.”

He shrugs half heartedly. Mostly he’s kept his feelings to himself, and only hoped she felt the same. But when Raven puts it like that, maybe the conversation doesn’t seem so scary after all. 

Or maybe she’ll realise soon enough what she’s missing out on. 

Luckily she turns up before he can overthink it – and he definitely will. He shuffles over so she can sit next to him. She greets him with a kiss on the cheek that makes him blush, Raven and Monty smirk at him but don’t comment.

“Here” she says to Monty, passing over her phone “read that please”

Monty frowns and reads the screen with a crease in his brow. Raven looks over his shoulder and snorts. “Sure” Monty says cautiously “I agree I suppose”

“Great” Clarke grins and hands over the laptop.

“What was that” Bellamy questions in confusion.

“Roan asked me to make sure Monty knows that this is a personal favour and that he’s in now way connected to the case we’re building against the Wallaces nor is he associated with any of the information we’ll find from the laptop.” Clarke shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Damn this is serious isn’t it” Raven mutters from behind her own laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“A bit” Clarke replies nonchalantly. “I just want to find out what they’re hiding, it has to be on here. It’s the last place it can be.”

Raven pauses, looking hesitantly up at them. “Can I ask what it is you’re looking for, or is it kind of a if you tell me you have to kill me kind of thing?”

“It’s not that serious” Clarke laughs “it’s just – my father was working on something for the Wallaces, then he said he’d found a major problem with whatever it is, he was on his way to tell me when his car crashed. They said he aquaplaned but I got it investigated privately and his breaks were cut. Whatever he knew the Wallaces didn’t want it getting out”

He thinks of his dream, the woman begging him not to go public, not get Clarke involved and not to drive in the storm. She’d warned him it was going to go bad. There was a strange feeling to the dream though, the more he has it, the more it’s trying to tell him. There’s something off about the woman, about the way she’s talking, like she knows more than she’s letting on.

Then, she’s in front of him again, this time it’s the background picture of Jake Griffins laptop. She’s grinning widely with Clarke and Jake, looking every bit the happy family. He wonders if it was façade or if they were genuinely happy. 

“Is that your mom?” He points to the woman, but he already knows the answer, they look so similar she couldn’t be anybody else. Clarke nods and hums, but doesn’t say anymore. He’d sensed they had a tense relationship before, this confirms it. 

The pictures taken over by a black screen with green writing he couldn’t even try and decipher, but Monty and Raven obviously know what they’re doing so he doesn’t question it. He sneaks a sideways glance at Clarke, she’s nervous – he can tell that much. Her eyes are glued to the laptop, sideways on the table so everyone can see what’s happening. Monty’s controlling it from his own laptop, Bellamy doesn’t really understand how, but he knows better than to question it – he understands the answers even less. 

Then, the family photos back and they’re in. Clarke leaves forward to the laptop, flicking through the documents the familiarity.

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” Raven questioned, looking curiously at the laptop.

“His work files are organised by the company he was working for, so the one I want should be Wallace and Son” there’s a crease between Clarkes brow in concentration as she scrolls through. Theres a lot of files there, some going back years. Jake Griffin obviously kept records of everything he did. When she’s scrolled to the bottom, the crease deepens.

“It’s not here” she whispers, scrolling back up then going down again, checking each file meticulously. “I don’t understand, it was definitely here, I saw it before he – ” she cuts herself off, there’s no need to finish the sentence, they know what she’s going to say. 

“Don’t panic” Monty says “We can just do a system search.” Clarke nods, and Monty’s taken over the laptop again, the screen seems to move on its own. Wallace appears in the search bar, and mercifully a few files pop up. Clarke takes back control and looks into all of them, but her frown just gets deeper with each failed document. 

“These aren’t the right ones, they’re mainly contracts. I’m looking for a water treatment system blueprint”

Monty nods and types it in, again, there’s a few files that come up, but Clarke says it’s not the right ones. There’s a devastated look on her face that breaks Bellamy’s heart. He puts an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close. She leans on his and whispers “What am I going to do now?”

Drop it, he wants to say. Let Jake rest in peace, but that’s not what she wants to hear, and it’s definitely not what she’s going to do. So he kisses her hair and murmurs “We’ll figure something out.”

She nods and straightens up, a mask taking over – she wont cry, not now, not here. She’ll wait until she thinks Bellamy’s asleep or she goes home. Maybe she wont cry at all, maybe she’ll let it all bubble up until it explodes. 

They ordered food, Monty took all the Passwords off the computer so Clarke could get into it whenever, and the conversation about it was dropped. 

Somehow, they got into some sort of a normal dinner. They told stories and made jokes, Clarke and Raven got on like a house on fire, for a moment, he thought this is how it could always be. Murphy teased her about her car whenever he could get to the table between orders, telling her that people would get the wrong idea about his diner if there was fancy cars parked outside. Clarke threw a fry at him but smiled none the less. 

She didn’t go home that evening like he thought she might, but sat leant against him on the sofa, eyes completely unfocused on what they watching on the TV. He could almost hear her thoughts screaming, her stare was getting more intense, she would explode at some point for sure.

“Hey” he murmurs, pulling her attention back to him from wherever it had wondered off to. “You okay?”

She smiles, small and a bit sad, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes “Yeah I’m fine”

He sighs, he wants her to open up, not that she hasn’t been open already, but anything to do with her father is shut down straight away. He doesn’t now if she thinks it’s a difficult subject between them or if its just her way of coping. “It’s okay not to be okay, Clarke”

“I know, I’m fine, really – just disappointed”

He nods and lets her leant against him again. He’s got an idea, its late, but not too late to do it. “I’ll be back in a minute” he tells her, pushing himself up from the couch. He loads the truck in record time, despite not really knowing what he needs, he makes do. 

“Come on” he tells Clarke, putting his hand out so she can pull herself up. 

“What’s going on?” She asks with confused frown. Bellamy runs his thumb over the crease in her brow, he’s seen it too many times today. 

“We’re going out” he tells her, but he’s not giving anymore away.

“Do I need to change?”

He looks down at her dress, its still warm out, and its not like he’s not prepared if it gets cold.

“No, you’re perfect” he gets a genuine smile then, he’s still blown away by how beautiful she is. He takes her hand and leads her to the truck, making sure she doesn’t look in the bed. He cant keep the grin off his face he drives, looking over occasionally to see her ever growing curiosity. 

“Is this the part where I find out you’re actually working for the Wallaces and was paid to kill me?” She smiles with a quirk of her eyebrow. He laughs out loud, happy her moods picking up.

“You got me, now I have no choice”

“Oh so I had a choice before?”

He laughs and shakes his head. The roads are getting bumpy and narrow now. He’s grateful its only them on the road in the dark, navigating round another car could be a struggle. 

Finally, he pulls up where he wants. It’s deserted, no other cars or people about which is what he was hoping for. They’re so far from any town or city the darkness is vast and a little frightening, but that was his intention. The only company in the clearing was the hoot of an owl in the looming trees surrounding them.

Clarke looks around, face torn with amusement and confusion. “Come on” he smiles, “Ive got something to show you” he walks her to the back of the truck, and unclips the bed ledge so they can climb in. He might have gone overboard with the amount of pillows and blankets he brought, but he wanted them to be comfortable, the bed of his truck wasn’t exactly made for this. 

They clamber up and lay down, Clarkes head perched on his shoulder despite the abundance of pillows surrounding them. “You said you wanted to see the stars” he murmurs into her hair “and I told you I’d show you them, so here they are”

He came here once as a teenager, moody and full of angst that the world was against him, he was so low he thought he’d never come back up for air. But he did. He sat in this very spot for hours and just stared into the great unknown and accepted that there was something bigger than him, maybe someday he’d be up there too, lighting up the sky with a beauty he cant comprehend. 

Now the sky is cloudless and full with stars, more light than darkness. It’s the same beauty he’d seen all those years ago that made him keep on living. Now the beauty that keeps him living is lying next to him.

She places a hand on his cheek and tilts his face towards her. Her lips capture his before he’s realised what’s going on. It’s slow and sweet, and there’s a tingle of electricity under his skin. He pulls away and takes her hand, guiding her finger around constellations, whispering their names as she gazes at the night sky in awe. When he’s ran out of constellation names, they lie in silence, gazing at the stars in absolute peace. She sighs at the shooting stars and occasionally tightens her arm around his middle. 

He’s not sure how long they lie like that, there’s no real chill in the air, but that’s not unusual. All that matters is Clarkes happy. She’s not stewing in her thoughts, or obsessively going through the laptop, she looks free now, more so than he’s ever seen her. 

“You’re so beautiful” she murmurs, her fingertips tracing his cheek. A blush rises, he’s grateful for the dark so she cant see. In lieu of a response, he half heartedly scoffs, a giggle bubbles over her lips. “You are, not just physically, but this too” her hand rests over his heart, it beats too fast “that’s all you, Bellamy. You’ve got a beautiful soul, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I’m grateful I’ve got you.”

He cant respond, if he does, he might say too much, like he loves her, loves her more than he thought was ever possible, and he’s never letting her go. So he kisses her instead, moving them so he’s on top of her, cradled in his arms where he hopes she’ll stay.

She will, at least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who remembered how to update! I have no idea if anyone’s still here but if you are, thank you for sticking with it!


	6. Part 6

_It took him what seems like hours to figure out how to do it, but he finally did – at least, he thinks he did. He’d find out soon enough when he couldn’t find the files again when he needed them. _

_Dante Wallace slippery, he wouldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him, so he was backing himself up, making sure they couldn’t get into his files and take his blueprints. _

_He tests himself, shutting down the files and going back through the whole procedure again. It was long, a matryoshka of false files and an encrypted document just to get to the Wallace files, but if it protected his work, he’d do it._

_“Hey” Clarke grins from the doorway, he turns in his chair in surprise._

_“Hey kid, I didn’t know you were coming over”_

_She wonders into the study, hands trailing over the bookshelf. She’s done it since she was old enough to go in there without destroying the place. “Thought I’d come say hi before going to work.”_

_“Well its good to see you when you’re not elbow deep in paint or them other things you use – ”_

_“Pastels?”_

_“Pastels. Did your mother talk to you about the beach house?”_

_Clarke nods and smiles, there’s a hint of dimples that she got from him, along with the blue eyes and mischievous streak. She jumps a little to sit on the edge of his desk, her legs swings and her heels bump gently on the drawers. “And? What do you think?”_

_She shrugs and looks away, maybe there’s a hint of sadness there, he can’t quite tell. “It’s a big house that we don’t use anymore. It’s a bit sad to see it go but I know there’s other families that would get more use out of it than ours”_

_Those words are Abby’s. He knows that she probably kicked up a fuss downstairs and got a talking to. Whether Clarke was happy about them selling it or not it was going, Abby had made the decision and her say is usually final. _

_“Maybe we could use the money from that to buy a beach house in the Caribbean” she perks up, smiling brightly again._

_“Yes Clarke, I’m sure a beach house in southern America equates to a Caribbean one”_

_“That’s the spirit”_

_He laughs “Try a hut”_

_“Whatever” she shrugs “what are you working on?”_

_“It’s a new water treatment system for Polis, the one we’ve got is outdated so the Wallaces want a new one put in”_

_Clarke rolls her eyes, the same way she has since she got her mothers attitude “You may as well just start calling them the government, they own more of this City than anyone else”_

_He shrugs uncomfortably and closes down the files meticulously – memorising their order, it wont come up on a search deliberately. “Nothing we can do about it, sweetheart. Just keep on their good side, don’t keep antagonising Cage either, its going to lead to nothing but trouble if you keep leading him on”_

_“I’m not leading him on” she scoffs, it’s a bit petulant – but then so is what she’s doing with Cage. “He’s creepy and he keeps hanging around. I’m just being polite by not telling him to shove off”_

_He sighs, there’s not a lot she hasn’t got her own way with in life “there’s a difference between being polite and not being honest about your feelings. Just tell him you’re happy as friends, men don’t usually stick around after that, trust me”_

_She smirks “experience?”_

_“Of course not.”_

Bellamy doesn’t wake with a jolt this time, or in a pool of sweat, he’s actually – cold, and the rooms darker than its ever been before, even in the middle of the night. It takes him a minute to understand why; he’s in Clarkes apartment, the air cons on full blast and she doesn’t have paper thin curtains like he does, shes got blackout blinds that can make midday look like midnight. 

The dreams still vivid, but more importantly, so is the path to finding the files Clarke needs.

“Hey” he shakes her shoulder, he has no idea what time it is and no idea what he’s going to tell her, but if he doesn’t do this quick he’ll forget. “Clarke wake up”

“What?” She sits bolt upright, it would probably be so comical if he didn’t have to try and explain the next part.

“Have you got your dads laptop?”

She stares him, eyes wide and incredulous, she turns to look at her phone on the bedside table. “Bellamy its nearly four in the morning, what the hell do you want with that? And don’t you dare say we overslept”

“No, I just – I cant explain, it need it now though”

She shakes her head, her hairs falling free from the braid he put in last night. “Can’t this wait until the morning when – ”

“No, I need to see it now” he snaps, more than he was meant to. She huffs and stalks out the room, coming back a moment later with the laptop, dropping it unceremoniously on the bed.

Not a morning person indeed. 

It’s easy to get into now, Monty’s taken off all the passwords remotely, he just hopes that means the encrypted file too – not that he has any idea what that means. He tries to keep his mind blank as he goes through the files, only trying to remember the order from his dream. His fingers seem to be working on their own though, and he can sense the ever deepening frown from Clarke next to him. He gets a far as the encrypted file, it needs a password, but Bellamy prays that Monty’s wiped it. Hitting enter, he breathes a sigh of relief as the Wallace file appears on the screen.

“Is this what you were looking for?”

She takes the laptop off him silently and looks through, searching each file intensely, then closes the laptop lid and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know what you just did or how you found that, but I’m going to send these files to Roan to look through, then we’re going back to sleep – ”

“Clarke – ”

“ – and we’ll have a conversation about this in the morning, alright?”

He nods, and she leans forward to place a kiss on his cheek before opening the laptop and putting the files into an email. She’s silent as she closes the laptop down and places it on the floor. He thinks shes going to say something else, but she just lies down and tugs on his arm to do the same.

She settles on his shoulder, where she usually falls asleep. He’s got an arm around her and the covers pulled up high.

“Clarke?”

A beat of silence, then “Can we talk about this when we wake up please?”

“Yeah, of course. I was just going to say – can I turn the air con down a bit? Theres a polar bear in the corner who thinks it’s a bit chilly”

  
  
When he wakes up again, he’s alone and considerably warmer. Theres a smell he’s never woken up to before, so he climbs out of bed slowly and makes his way into the kitchen, it’s immaculate, white marble and gold features, quartz tops and there’s no handles which baffled him to start, now he knows that with a tap everything opens. He both loves and hates it. It’s the kind of sleek and modern design that would look horrendously out of place in his house, but that would never be an option, because there’s no way in hell he could ever afford something like this.

His kitchen – proposed kitchen – would look horrendously out of place here though, he puts it down to Clarkes art knowledge, he knows what suits a room, so he shrugs it off and tries not to touch anything. 

“Hey” he winds his arms around her waist, shes got a tiny silk slip on that she slept in, and her hairs still messy in her braid, so she hasn’t been awake long. 

“Hey” she smiles, leaning back into him so he can press a kiss to her cheek. She flips over a pancake in the pan, domesticated is so unlike her, but he’s not complaining. “Breakfast wont be long”

“I could get used to this, you barefoot and cooking in the kitchen” he murmurs against her cheek, she lets out a surprised laugh.

“I don’t think that quite how that expression goes but I like it better. Don’t get too used it though, I hope you like your bacon extra crispy.”

She’s right, the bacons probably a little past crispy, and pancakes weren’t flipped in time but it doesn’t matter, she woke up before him and started cooking, it was certainly the thought that counts. It does remind him of a conversation he’s been putting off though, that everyday he falls a little deeper and the possible outcome will break his heart.

He drops his arms so she can plate up the food, he’s kind of scared to eat off the plates, everything is her apartment looks so brand new and shiny, like it’s a showroom of things he cant afford. As much as he pretends he doesn’t care – he does. 

“So” he starts as they sit as the island “Last night - ”

“I don’t care” she interjects, his eyebrows raise is surprise.

“But you said – ”

“I know what I said, but I couldn’t sleep last night after – I just kept thinking about how you could possibly know that. It wasn’t like I’d overlooked it, I’ve looked through that laptop at least twenty times since Monty unlocked it and I couldn’t find a thing. But you kept going through all these files like you’d done it hundreds of times before and I just – I figured, I don’t want to know. Theres a certain level of weird that I think I’m better off not knowing, so I’m just grateful that you were able to show me the documents”

She’s staring intently at her plate, taking a stab at the bacon. It falls apart under her fork, but she scoops it up anyway.

“Okay” he nods, he’ll accept it as log as she does. It’s probably a fragile kind of peace, he doesn’t understand it enough to explain it and he doesn’t want to freak Clarke out. Having dreams about the crash is one thing, but this is on a whole new level. Theres memories he absolutely shouldn’t be having, memories that feel stolen and too vivid. “What are you doing with the files?”

“Roans having someone look over them. I don’t know what’s in them really, I’m not an engineer, but I think there was maybe a miscalculation somewhere and there’s something wrong with the treatment system and the Wallaces put it in anyway. It’s just a theory though – like I said, I’m not an engineer, I have no idea about these things really”

“I’d like to help, but I have no idea about them either.” He smiles, the bacon crunches and she winces. So maybe there’s a reason most the cookings left to him. She’s clean and house proud, but not the best of cooks. It’s fine though, it’s a good compromise. 

“You’ve done enough to help, honestly I’d have never found them files without you”

“Glad I could help” he gathers their plates and takes them over to the sink to rinse and loading them in the dishwasher. With only two of them it takes a bit longer to fill, he’s just wash them by hand but Clarke insists on putting them in the washer. He wont say anything, but it irks him. It’s a waste of time and money on the electricity bill. But its not his apartment or his bills, so he loads it without saying anything. 

“I’m going to get ready for work” she squeezes his shoulder on her way past “We’re backed up with meetings today and Roans coming over later. You got any plans?”

“Nothing of great importance” he shrugs, it’s a lie but she’s already decided that she doesn’t want to know about his dreams, so she doesn’t need to know about today. He dresses as she does her make up, he doesn’t know much about make up, only the stuff Octavia brought home from the drugstore discount bin. 

This make up definitely was not that. One piece was probably more than Octavia’s entire collection put together.

Different experiences, he reminds himself. It’s not her fault he didn’t grow up with money like that, or that he’s never had a disposable income, it doesn’t make her a bad person.

“You alright?” She asks with a quirked eyebrow in the mirror, he realises he was staring when he catches his own reflection. He shakes the thoughts off, stop overthinking.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yep” she pops the P as shes applying mascara. “I’m probably working late again, is it alright you stay here again tonight?”

“Fine” he squeezes her shoulder on his way out, and finally feels like he can finally breathe again. The apartments too sterile and clean, he’s constantly worries about touching things or knocking something out of place. It’s like living in a museum – its meant to be looked at, not really lived in. Apart from Clarkes art work on the wall it looks like it hasn’t been lived in. 

He drives home to shower, not wanting the minefield of reading french labels in Clarkes shower. 

Get over yourself he tells himself, he shouldn’t begrudge her for having nice things. 

At lunchtime, he meets Murphy and Raven at the diner, he’d sent them a vague text about having a crisis, and looking at their concerned expressions he realises it may have been an exaggeration, and it may have been misconstrued. 

“What’s going on?” Murphy demands. Bellamy winces – yeah, he was definitely being a little overdramatic. 

“First of all - I’m sorry for panicking you, it really wasn’t as bad of a morning as I thought it would be”

“Did you and Clarke have a fright?” Ravens brows furrow in concern.

“No, no. It’s – I cant explain it like sounding like a crazy man”

“Try” Murphy suggests, rather forcefully but he’ll forgive it. 

“Remember after my transplant, I kept having weird dreams about the crash?” They both nod, looking confused and a bit intrigued. “Well I’ve been having dreams again, but they’re vivid, like the crash. One was that I was arguing with a woman about going public about something, then I said I was going to see Clarke and walked into a storm, I always woke up when the lightening struck.”

They’re both looking at him a little guarded, but he knows what they’re thinking - they’re just dreams, people dream weird things all the time. 

“Then the other day, when we were looking at Jake Griffins laptop, I realised the woman was Clarkes mother. It’s like I’m having dreams of Jakes memories”

“Okay, that is weird” Murphy concedes. “Have you told Clarke about it? Maybe she knows something about the memories.”

He shakes his head. “No, that dream wasn’t even the strangest one. Raven you know how we couldn’t find the Wallace files?” Raven nods “Well last night I had a dream about them, he hid them inside a load of dummy files and a password protected document, he’d encrypted them or something so they wouldn’t show up on a search. I looked through the laptop again and it was exactly where I dreamt it would be”

“Holy shit” Raven whispers, Murphy goes for a less tactful

“What the actual fuck?”

“Yeah” he sighs. “It’s weird, right?”

“Mega weird.” Murphy agrees. “Like they’re going to experiment on you. What did Clarke say about you having her dead fathers memories?”

“Nothing” he shrugs “She said its too weird and she doesn’t want to know”

“Smart girl” he approves. Bellamy rolls his eyes, he didn’t come here for them to gawk at him like he’d grown another head or something.

“What should I do?”

Raven shrugs “What can you do? I mean, they’re dreams so unless you plan on never falling asleep again there’s not a lot you can do. Maybe Jakes trying to tell you something about his case”

“This is some Nancy Drew shit.” Murphy muttered under his breath.

“Nancy drew? That’s who you’re going with?” Raven asked incredulously “But he’s kind of right, this is the kind of shit they make films about”

“Hey” Murphy perks up “Maybe you’ll get royalties, you might have a speck of what your girlfriend has then”

He blushes furiously and looks away, Murphy really knows how to hit his weakest spots at the worst possible time. How could he possibly have known he was paranoid about the money when he’d spent weeks convincing himself she was down to earth and it didn’t bother him. Vaguely he heard Raven telling Murphy to shut up, and he’s grateful. 

He’s saved by the bell – its actually a frequent bell, telling them orders up and there’s not enough serving staff, so with a begrudged sigh and some pointed looks from Emori, Murphy stands and flings his apron back on. 

“Ignore Murphy, he’s a dick” Raven tells him when Murphy’s out of earshot. “What’s going on with you and Clarke?”

“It’s nothing really” he sighs, but it’s a lie, its lots of little things piling up. “It’s kind of the money thing, every time I try and tell myself that it doesn’t bother me but it does. Her disposable income is ridiculous, I don’t know how much she earns from the gallery, but she paid off my transplant costs like it was nothing, that’s over a million dollars Raven. I don’t think I’ve ever spent more than fifty dollars on myself in one purchase and she just doesn’t even think twice about any of it”

“I think it would bother me too” Raven confesses, she grew up with an alcoholic for a mother who never really cared about her, and shes worked damn hard to come the person she is today. “But, cant you just talk to her or something?”

“And say what? Can you stop spending money its making me uncomfortable because I’m poor?”

Raven snorts “Maybe don’t word it like that, but seriously if you like her as much as I think you do, don’t keep it in until you explode.”

“Thanks Raven” he smiles, and he feels better, at least about the dreams, finally getting them off his chest. Ravens right too, he needs to be open with Clarke about his feelings, otherwise its going to boil up and bubble over, and he’s happy with her, happier than he thought he’d ever be, he’s not going to ruin it through miscommunication.  
  
There’s music pounding through the door when he gets to Clarkes apartment, he lets himself in, her key on his key ring is new and shiny.

“Hey” he calls, turning the volume down on the stereo. Theres paper files strewn across the coffee table, he picks one up and flicks through; it’s the blueprints he saw on Jakes laptop, only now its covered in annotations.

“Hey” she comes out the kitchen to give him a kiss on the cheek “I didn’t think you’d be here so early, Roan and Niylah’s just left, we’ve been going over things for the case.”

“Any luck?”

Her mouth twists uncomfortably and she looks away, the files that cover the coffee table are just the tip of the iceberg. “Maybe”

It’s a lie, or wishful thinking, but – its not his business. He’s made it clear that he’s not getting involved with this, she was grateful for the help with the laptop, but the actual case, the gritty, cold side of Clarke that it brings out, he stays far away from. 

“What are you cooking?” He diverts, the smells unusual, not something he thinks he knows.

“Something I can actually cook” she grins “Thai Green Curry. I picked the recipe up in Thailand a few years ago”

“You learnt to cook in Thailand?” He deadpans, but he can imagine it – the jet set life suits her. He imagines before this she was always somewhere, always doing something. She doesn’t sit still for long, he cant imagine her staying in one place too long either. The thought makes his stomach turn uncomfortably.

“One or two things” she shrugs “I seem to better at cooking more exotic dishes than – ”

“Bacon and pancakes?”

“Shut up” she laughs with a pat to his chest “I got distracted”

“And now?”

“Shit, the rice”

He laughs and follows after. She just catches the rice on time – or so she says anyway past the swirl of steam as she takes the lid off. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had Thai food before”

She throws a sceptical look his way, it isn’t meant to be condescending, but that’s how it feels. “Never?”

“Arkadia’s not exactly know for exotic food and the furthest I’ve been is Polis, I didn’t come here very often before I met you”

“Well, it’s a good job you did meet me, because you’re in for an experience.”

He smiles tightly, he knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes by the way her eyebrow furrow at him.

“Is everything alright? You’ve been kind of…off recently”

He sighs, yeah - he’s not been very good at hiding his feelings, and right now they’re a whirlwind. He needs to pick his battle carefully, otherwise he’ll overload and she’ll run a mile. He doesn’t want to scare her off, despite the conversation being heavy.

“I think we need to have a talk” he watches her reaction carefully, there’s no panic at his words, just a sadness he doesn’t want to be the cause of. “It’s not – ”

“Let’s eat first, yeah? We’ll talk after” she cuts off, her tone leaves no room for arguments, so he nods and stands back as she serves the food into bowls and carries it to the island.

He hates the silence as they eat, he should have worded it better, should have masked his emotions better. He’s never been very good at that – hiding feelings. Now shes sitting expecting the worst. It might be the worst, but it might not. His fork scrapes the bowl and signals that dinners over. She picks up their bowls without a word and rinses them in the sink, he wants to tell her that there’s no point using the dishwasher for two bowls and two pans, but she wont listen to him so he keeps quiet.

He stands, awkward and unsure what he’s supposed to do, talk here? Lead the way to the sofa? She breaks his thoughts by wrapping her arms around his neck. He hugs her back, arms going around her waist and squeezing. 

“Come on” she murmurs “Lets go sit” she untangles herself from his arms and leads him to the sofa, it saves him a decision, but it is her apartment; she makes the rules. 

“It’s really not as bad as you’re thinking” he smiles as he takes her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Her skin its soft and tanned, still pale in comparison to him though. She smiles back sadly and nods at him to continue. “Clarke, I spent my entire life thinking I’d never make it this far, I never even imagined what thirty would look or feel like but I’m here, by some – ”

It’s not a miracle, someone died for him to be here, her father died for him to be here. No, its not a miracle or divine intervention, it’s a gut wrenching reality. It’s messy and it hurts but it brought him to her. 

“ – by some chance I’m here. I never let myself think this far into the future because this wasn’t supposed to be my future. But now it is I can let myself want the things I’ve never been allowed to want before. I can have a future, I want a future, and that involves getting married and having a family. Ive waited my entire life to die and now I’m not – I want to live”

Her face softens, her smile gentle and wondrous, but there’s still sadness in her eyes.

“I really like you Clarke, but I have to be realistic in thinking that I’m not getting any younger, I have to be serious about my expectations for myself and this relationship” The panic he’s been waiting for hits now, her eyes widen and teeth clamp down on her lip. “I need to know if that’s what you want as well, because as much I don’t want to let you go, its not fair on either of us to carry on if we don’t want the same things”

“Bellamy – ”

“And you’re still young, we come from completely different worlds. I want to raise a family in the house my grandfather built. I want to pass it down to my children and – ”

“Bell – ”

“You probably grew up in a ridiculous sized house with a pool and its completely rational for you to want to raise your children that way – if you even want children, if you don’t – ”

She cuts him off by pressing her mouth to his, he freezes momentarily, his brain’s still on his well rehearsed speech and doesn’t comprehend that she’s kissing him. But he catches up and pulls her closer, holding her tight in cautious relief. She presses her forehead against his to catch her breath and laughs “Jesus fuck, Bellamy let me get a word in.”

“I’ve been going over this in my head all day” he huffs “the least you could do is let me finish”

She laughs, bright and gleeful “God I – ” she pauses and bites her lip, eyes squeezing shut and god he’s pathetic for already missing them. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

“It really depends on your views on kids and marriage” the jokes weak but she grins anyway.

“I want that, all of it. I want it with you. That stuff never bothered me before, it either happened or it didn’t, but god I want everything with you. It’s stupid to feel this way after a couple of months but it’s the truth. I want the house, I’ll settle for a paddling pool in the garden just don’t scare me like that again”

“I couldn’t give you the life you have here, you’d be susceptible to small town gossip and Murphy’s diner” he voice trembles a little, not quite believing everything she’s just said. He’ll never believe his luck that someone like her could possibly want him. But she does, and he wont question it as long as she doesn’t.

“I don’t care about this, about any of it. It’s superficial I can live without it, trust me when I say its you that I want. Just - I’m a mess right now, my life’s a mess. I need time before we think about that.”

He nods – time he can do, he’s got plenty of it now, after all. 


	7. Part 7

Summer burns on through august, the sky cloudless and the sun intense. Clarkes taken to pointing out new freckles that emerge in the sun. Theres a smattering of freckles over her shoulders, golden from hours sat in the sun between work and meetings with Roan and Niylah which left her in a sour mood.

He tries his best to keep out of her way for a while after she gets home from those meetings, she settles down soon enough and he never asks what was said, he doesn’t get involved.

She’s in one of them moods now. She got back to his late, said there was an accident on the way from Polis and she couldn’t get out of the traffic. It worsened her mood – if that’s possible. She’s had more time to sit and _think. _She said she was in meetings with Luna all day then straight into talks with Roan and Niylah which from the small bits he’s gathered are not going well. Mixed in with intense heat of the summer, shes barely said a word since she got back.

The dream keeps running through his head, every night it’s the same dream, sometimes the conversations are mixed up, but it’s always Cage Wallace and the Beach house. He doesn’t understand why he’s seeing them two things. He might be able to put the Cage Wallace part into some sort of context, but the beach house made no sense. Unless something happened there, but how does he bring it up without freaking Clarke out?

He cant. She’s already said it’s too weird so he leaves it in his head.

In the bathroom, the water shuts off and Bellamy settles into bed with the semesters syllabus Miss Monroe sent him. He had a meting with Pike this week to talk about getting back to teaching Part time. Zoe was going on Maternity love soon, so he’s slowly take over from her until he’s full time. He’s excited and nervous, he desperately needs to get back to work, he needs money and a routine, but he’s also got used to his routine at home, he’s got used to his bubble. Now reality is about to burst it.

He starts making a list of things he needs to go back over for the year – its in the syllabus, and all the students have textbooks, but he’d still like to be prepared.

The bed dips next to him and the overwhelming smell of roses fills the room. The lotions ridiculously expensive, he’s convinced that’s why it smells so strong – everyone in a five block radius has to know you’ve got it. It’s presence demands to be known.

She picks up a tablet from her bag, its new – or new to him at least. Theres a pen attached to it that only works with the tablet, he doesn’t understand how any of it works but she does. She flicks open the cover and opens a document, it looks like the start of a logo, not the usual things she works on.

Not that he’s actually seen much of her work, he’s seen what’s at her apartment and a couple of things shes shown him on her phone, but he knows she’s got an entire portfolio of work he’s never seen. He’s never been to her gallery – its something he maybe should have done a long time ago, considering how much time she spends there, but he just never got around to it.

“What’s that?” He asks, peering over her shoulder. Whatever shes drawing, its good, the lines are clear and neat whereas he cant draw a circle.

“Luna wants to go more into digital art, she says there’s a gap in graphic design so we’re looking into it, we looked at courses today.”

“Is that something you want to do?”

Her hand pauses, her brows furrow and her lips twist. “It would be nice to branch out a little, expand it into an actual business instead of just having the gallery, it would be a steadier income if it took off. I just – ” she sighs and stares hard at the tablet “I’m just comfortable where I am, I think. With everything going on I’m not sure trying to start a new business would be the best of ideas.”

He nods, he has to agree with her, her time seems to have found a healthy balance between work, the case and him. As selfish as it seems, he doesn’t want the time he’s got with her to be taken away. They’ll have to find a new balance in just a couple of weeks when he goes back to teaching. But he also cant hold her back if its something that’s going to help her. He wonders if she actually _needs _a steady income like that, or if the Gallery makes enough to tide her over.

“How much do you actually make at the Gallery? I mean, I have no idea about art or anything like that, I don’t know how much your art actually sells for”

She smiles at his confession, it was obvious from when they picked out the kitchen that he didn’t have a clue about anything like that. “It depends”

“On?” He prompts, she’s got a look that says she’s avoid answering the question. She huffs and looks up from her tablet.

“Lots. If it’s a commissioned piece, or auction or a show piece. We get commission from other artists who sell their work in the gallery, Luna does classes sometimes”

“Okay” he nods “Then average it, how much does your art sell for?”

She bites her lips in trepidation, Bellamy’s not going to like the answer. “If it’s a commissioned piece, a couple of thousand including time and supplies”

“Thousands?!”

She glares at him but there’s an embarrassed flush rising up her neck.

“I’m sorry, but people actually pay thousands of Dollars for a painting?” If looks could kill he’d be six feet under right now. “Why would anyone spend that kind of money on something so – ” _shut up, Bellamy_ the voice in his head screamed at him.

Clarke shrugs angrily “Because they can, Bellamy. I don’t put the prices over what people are willing to pay”

“Maybe in Polis, they’re not paying that kind of money for a _picture _here”

“Well I don’t have a gallery here” she snaps, it only flares Bellamy’s temper more.

“No, you couldn’t rinse thousands of dollars from Arkadia”

“What the hell is your problem? You’ve been making digs about money for weeks now” she retorted, the embarrassed flush turned angry now.

He didn’t realise he’d been so obvious about his distaste for her money. Maybe it was jealousy, or a deep sated disdain for what he’s never had. But it irritates him more than he’ll ever let himself admit that she throws money around like its nothing, and that she gets thousands for doing something as simple as painting a picture someone asked for.

“You have no idea how the real world works do you? Outside of Polis where people throw money around like it’s nothing.”

“Where is this even coming from?” There was a real hurt in her eyes. He remembered what Raven said about talking things through. _Don’t keep it all in until it explodes. _Looks like that’s what he’s doing.

“It’s not coming from anywhere, its just how I feel. People here struggle, I’ve struggled all my life and you just act like moneys nothing. You earn more for one painting than I did teaching full time, yet you manage to keep a fancy apartment and car for minimal effort. You’d never survive a normal life.”

Theres a flash of anger and hurt in her eyes, and he wished that he could have controlled his temper more to talk it through civil, but it’s a sore spot he didn’t know he had until now.

Clarke slams the tablet cover shut and throws off the bed covers, storming out of bed. “Fuck you Bellamy” she throws her dress on over the slip she was sleeping in and shoved her tablet back in her bag. She didn’t even look at him as she left. He counted the seconds until the front door slammed shut behind here and her car tyres squealed as she pulled away too fast.

He rubs a hand over his face and squeezes his eyes shut, there’s a deafening silence without her there and overwhelming regret that he couldn’t hold his tongue. The papers hit the floor with a gentle thud, its not the satisfying slam he wanted but it would have to do. Flicking off the lamp, he’s lay down a moment too long when he realises Clarkes lamp is still alight. With a huff, he leans over and flicks it off. The smell of her rose lotion and peach shampoo lingers on her side of the bed, she’s only been gone ten minutes and the regrets settling in hard.

But then, its not. The anger slowly leaches away and while he knows his reaction was dramatic, what he said was valid. He’d just let the feelings boil over, but really the problem was with him, not her.

Theres a new wave of regret when he thinks about her driving home angry. Theres no storm, but still – the image her fathers crash is vivid in his mind, it always will be, he thinks. It’s as clear as his own memories, and twice as daunting. He tries to put it out his mind and clamps his eyes shut, wiling sleep to come.

When it did, it was fitful and plagued with fractions of he same dream on repeat, Clarke running her fingers over a bookcase, a dimpled smile as she sat on the desk.

_“ – the beach house? – ”_

_“ – Cage Wallace – ”_

_“ – I’m not leading him on – ”_

Hand trailing over the bookcase, hint of a scar on her thumb, dimpled smile, legs swinging, thumping against the drawers.

_“ – Cage Wallace – ”_

_“ – he’s creepy and he keeps hanging around – ”_

_“ – beach house – ”_

_“ – don’t antagonise Cage – ”_

_“ – don’t lead him on – ”_

_“ – I’m not leading him on – ”_

Hand trailing over the bookcase, scar on her thumb, dimpled smile, legs swinging, feet hitting the drawers over and over _and over – _

_“ – don’t lead Bellamy on – ”_

_“ – I’m not leading him on!”_

Even as his eyes open in the golden bathed room, he can he hear the gentle thud of feet hitting the drawers, of his heartbeat too loud in his ears.

It’s drown out finally by bird song, sending him crashing back to reality in such a surreal jolt it takes a moment for him to get his head straight. In the glaring morning light, he feels small and stupid. Theres no message off her, it hurts more now than when she didn’t text him after their first date, because he knows now, he knows that he put all his hope in one girl that made him stupidly happy and he’s thrown it away, days after telling her their relationship was a sure thing.

She’d wanted him too, that hurt more. She’d wanted everything with him, more than he ever could have dreamed of, what was he throwing it away over? Money.

Not even a lack of money, she had too much.

How could he be angry at someone for having too much money? She had a sure thing, a secure future with one less thing to worry about and he threw it back at her like it was blood money.

He gets out of bed and thinks _fuck the hot weather_. He’s going for a run. His heads a mess and there’s no way he’s going to clear it sitting around moping. He fills his water bottle up with water so cold it leaves the outside dripping with condensation. His musics load and angry, faster than the beat his feet are trying to keep to.

He runs mindlessly, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other, breathe in, breathe out, wash, rinse, repeat.

He ends up at the lake again, where he taught Octavia to swim, summers with his friends, Murphy’s too pale skin burning from the reflection, reading Clarkes letter.

The sun bounces off it now, leaving a trail of golden sunlight for the ducks to bask in. In the smouldering august heat Bellamy knows the peace wont last for long here, families and teenagers will swarm it, searching for some sort of relief from the unbearable summer. He almost wants it to be chaotic here, he wants to know he’s not the only person in the world awake right now.

He doesn’t want to feel so lonely anymore.

He turns on his heel and starts a steady pace back home, hoping somehow Clarkes appeared since he left the house, that actually she never left and he can start this over with a clear mind.

But her cars not on the drive and there’s only a faint smell of her lingering in the bedroom. Theres a handful of her stuff here, a couple of dresses, underwear, her shampoo and conditioner, body wash, that god awful lotion that he hates the smell of. Its enough to fit into a plastic bag, not enough for her to come running back for. If she comes back for it at all. Its not like she cant just buy new stuff, shes obviously got duplicates of some of it back at her apartment, so what does she need to come back for?

Him, he hopes. If he hasn’t pissed her off to the point of leaving him with no contact, he hope she comes back to him.

Theres a dead silence from her, though. Its not like before after their first date, there’s no uncertainty no. He knows why shes not calling or texting and he knows why he’s not. Theres a feeling of a finale with no satisfying ending, because that’s what it would be if this were to end now. Regretful and shamed he’ll have thrown away the best thing he’s had in a long time.

Its days spent finding a new routine, the kitchens a dead end until he’s back to work and can afford the new cabinets and paint, its too hot to work outside so he’s stuck gong through his old lessons plans to match the syllabus.

He’s not as enthusiastic as he used to be about it, perhaps he’s been out of it for too long, perhaps he’s got too used to his routine of not working. He’ll get back into the swing of things once he’s there.

But he might not, knowing there was a possibility of doing his masters next year. He was too late to sign up for this fall, but that was alright. He still needed time to get his head around everything, the fact that for an entire year, he’ll have a disposable income.

Because of Clarke. He cringes even as he thinks it, knowing his treatment towards her was completely unjust when she’s done nothing but help him.

He clicks off the his research pages, its late and he really doesn’t care to read anymore about American History, he knows it like the back of his hand, but he cant remember how to make the kids care. He’ll get back into the swing of it.

Theres a news page open on his browser, he doesn’t care. Its late and he’s going to bed; the news will still be there in the morning. Except – Clarkes name catches his attention before he can close it down. Clarkes name in the news cant possibly be a good thing.

Its not. Theres a Cease and Desist order against her after she announced she’d found damning evidence on her fathers work computer.

He sighs and drags a hand over his face. He’s not the only one who cant keep his mouth shut. But his outburst didn’t put a target on his back by the Wallaces.

It’s a split second decision to call her, but it was pointless, he should have known her phone would be switched off now, she was probably being hounded by journalists, who are treating this like a murder mystery game with no compassion.

He goes to bed with a heavy heart, and once again regrets him not holding his temper more than anything.

He’s plagued by her still in his sleep, a flash on blonde hair, dimpled smile, cut on her thumb, feet banging on the draws –

_Don’t lead him on_

_I’m not leading him on!_

_Cage Wallace – _

_Don’t antagonise him - _

_I’m not leading him on!_

_Don’t lead Bellamy on –_

_I’m not leading him on!_

He’s frustrated when he wakes up, Clarkes phones still not switched on and he doesn’t understand the dreams. He doesn’t understand why he’s dreaming about it, what the significance of Cage Wallace is.

If it is Jake showing him – and honestly the thought makes his skin crawl a bit – he wants him to know something about Cage. He just doesn’t what, apart Clarke saying she’s not leading him on.

He goes about his day, trying not to think about it – as usual. He goes grocery shopping, runs errands in town, walks to the lake and basks for a moment in the noise and excitement of children playing and teenage sweethearts sneaking in first kisses. He’s happy for the first time in a couple of days, since his fight with Clarke. He’s happy to get his mind off it, to see other people happy and busy.

By the time he’s walked home he’s antsy again, so he cooks. Its good, mindless work, he always cooks enough for an army, or that’s what Octavia told him, anyway. It’s a habit left over from having to cook ahead for a week on his day off so if he wasn’t home Octavia could get something out the freezer.

He eats alone and there’s a chilling loneliness over him that he hates. Although there’s plenty of people he could call, and no one would say no, there’s only one that he wants to see.

Its as if shes been summoned when she walks through the door as he’s finishing his food. The key in the door shocks him at first, then relief washes over him, then the nerves settle in. She looks very much like the day he stormed into her apartment to ask why she hadn’t called him back. Theres dark bags under eyes that tell him she probably hasn’t slept properly since their fight. With so much shit going on her life, there’s a heavy guilt that he’s adding to it – to the fear and uncertainty he knows she’s feeling.

“Hey” she smiles, its timid and cautious. She hovers awkwardly in the doorway of the kitchen, keys clutched in her hand like a lifeline. “Can we talk?”

Bellamy sits back down, the kitchen chairs are too hard and mismatched. “Sure.” He replies coolly. “What about?”

Clarke huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “Whatever the hell that was the other night. I don’t get it, why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“And say what, Clarke? You having money makes me uncomfortable? I don’t like that you just spend it like it doesn’t mean a thing when people here grew up struggling? How would that have come across to you?”

“Well you didn’t have to go off at me like that.” She snaps “You didn’t have to make snide comments and turn your nose up at my life. I cant help how my life turned out like you cant help yours. It’s just the way it is.”

“Well its how I feel” he snaps back, but he’s not really sure why, all the anger from before had disappeared before she got here. Maybe it’s embarrassment, she’s right, he could have just talked it through with her. He would have sounded stupid, but he wouldn’t have been as much of a jerk as he was that night. He’s on the defence now. “I’m sorry about how it came out but I meant what I said.”

“You knew who I was when you asked me out, why did you bother if it was going to end up like this?” She stares him down, there’s no answer to give right now, nothing that can justify anything he’s done. He’s spent the last couple of months convincing himself he was fine with it until he wasn’t anymore. “If you’re going to be like this maybe we should just end it here, save the heartbreak further down the line.”

There was a solemn sort of silence, a silence that said the fight was over, but the aftershocks still stung. Dirty plates are still on the table, pots and pans piling up in the sink and he’s never been a messy person. But recently it feels as though his entire life is a mess.

He stands, and Clarke doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge that he’s moved at all – she just stares at her hands and picks at her nails anxiously. He hates silence.

The water never seems hot enough, maybe its his pipes, maybe its Arkadia in general – but the steam doesn’t burn the way it’s supposed to. He flicks on the radio and lets it sit softly in the background, he doesn’t recognise the song, but it doesn’t matter, it stops his thoughts from bouncing and distracts him from the fact Clarke could walk out at any minute and not come back, there’s a bagful of her stuff here, nothing she can’t replace if she doesn’t take it now, there’s nothing holding her to Arkadia when her life’s in Polis, he’d made that much clear.

He misses her come in though, the radio having done too much of a good job distracting him. He doesn’t say anything as she picks up a towel and dries the plate that she’s taken out his hands. They don’t need to say anything – what is there left to say now? He lets himself stew in the tension until there’s nothing left to wash up and a pile of clean pots and pans that need putting away.

But a Gene Clarkson song comes on the radio and he turns it up, catching the small smile on her lips. The table needs wiping over, there’s a pile of laundry that needs sorting and a load of clean washing on the line outside – none of it’s important. He pulls her in close, hands closing in on her waist and her hands settle on the back of his neck as the sway back and forth.

It’s sad and its sweet, she rests her head on his shoulder and he kisses the crown of her head. It could be a mistake, but that could be said for every decision. It could have been a mistake to call her over that first night when he couldn’t sleep from the nightmares, it might have been a mistake to ask her out on a date, or to get involved in her when the Wallace’s were out for her blood and she was out for theirs. Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him, soft and slow and he knows it would have been mistake to not call her, it would have been his biggest regret had he let her go that first day and never see her again.

“I love you” he whispers against her lips, and she lets out a huff of a laugh – bitter and unamused. Its probably way too little too late now, but he has to tell her, she has to know in case she walks out the door and never looks back.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it”

“I know”

They’re silent again, her head on his chest and his fingers have moved up to stroke her head running down her back.

“You give me whiplash sometimes” she whispers, she sounds so sad – he hates that he’s done that to her.

“I know” he whispers back and then “I’m sorry.”

“Please just talk to me, I don’t know what’s going on in your head if you don’t tell me.”

He nods in agreement, the songs finished and they’ve stopped swaying, embracing instead and he’ll be damned if he’s letting her go now. They move to the couch, her legs draped over his lap and a mellow silence he knows he needs to break.

“I’m sorry, about what I said the other night. I cant even begin to tell you how much I regret it. I get it, why you sell your paintings for so much, if I could do it I would. I had no right to talk to you like that.”

“I wasn’t making a dig at Arkadia, I promise. Its just – ”

“Business, I know Clarke. It’s alright. Its just, we didn’t grow up with a lot, and what little we had went fast. I guess there’s still some insecurity there.”

She smiles, relieved and tired. He knows they’ll be alright. “I’ll be more considerate. I just wish you’d opened up sooner.”

“Lets just forget it now. How’s the case going?”

He expected a mixed reaction, with having the Cease and Desist, but she’d told the media she’d found something, so that had to be at least some form of a win. He didn’t expect her face to crumble completely and her eyes fill with tears.

“Bell, there’s nothing” she whispers, and his heart breaks for her. “We’ve had so many people look through all the Wallace files, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with any of them. I just don’t know anymore.”

He wraps his arms around her and just holds her for a moment, as confused as he is, she needs support more than he needs answers. Finally, when she settles down and he tears have been brushed away he says “I thought you had something?”

She shakes her head, “No, I just - they’re going on about how the entire case is built on false accusations and Roan told me not to rise to it, but it got to me and I snapped when a reported asked me. It wasn’t the right thing to do but, I had to shut them up. Then they handed me a Cease and Desist and I thought Roan was going to kill me. The one thing we had left was freedom of speech and now if I say anything I’ll be sued – again.”

Theres a question on the tip of his tongue that he cant hold in any longer. The dream still haunts him. “Have you ever met them? The Wallaces?”

She shakes her head against him. “No, they’ve always been around – in Polis, they practically own most of the city. But they were just the people my dad was working with, I didn’t really have a reason to meet with them.”

_Don’t lead Cage on – _

_I’m not leading him on!_

It doesn’t make any sense, every dream so far has been true, to crash, the files, Clarkes mother – though he’s still not sure what that dream meant yet. When did this become his life? Deciphering dreams from his girlfriends dead father.

“It’s okay” he soothes in a hushed tone “Its going to be okay.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, just rests her head on his shoulder ad holds onto him a little tighter. “You really believe that?” She finally asks.

“Of course” he assures her, but the sooner this case is over, the better.

*

They’re doing better, possibly better than before, actually. They’re not deliriously sweet anymore as new relationships tend to be, they talk now, properly. They talk about insecurities and fears, they get to know each other on a deeper level, and they’re better for it too.

It’s a week later when she’s at work and he’s sorting through his closet so there’s some room for Clarkes stuff when a demanding knock on the door summons him. It doesn’t stop until he’s run down the stairs and opens the door in confusion. Everybody he knows either has a key or walks straight in.

Piercing eyes greet him, a dead smile and overly groomed dark hair.

“Bellamy Blake, I presume.” His voice is dripping in condescending pleasantries. He saunters past Bellamy with a Devil-may-care attitude, staring around his outdated living room in mild disgust.

“Who the hell are you?” He growls, the man turns to him ad grins – it turns his stomach.

“Cage Wallace, pleasure” he says it disdainful, it’s absolutely not a pleasure. Bellamy wants him the hell away from him.

“Is there a reason you’ve come all the way here? I assume it wasn’t just to introduce yourself.”

Cage grins, it makes his skin crawl. He’s a bit dead behind the eyes, Bellamy thinks. “I wanted to see what Clarkes fascination with you is. You’ve managed to do what many, many others have failed to do.” Cage stares through him, his eyes dark with no warmth. He’s staring into the abyss, and the abyss is staring back.

“What’s that?”

“Holding her attention. Before you came along, it was me. I was convinced we were a sure thing after she and her girlfriend broke it off but then here you are, some teacher from a small town with nothing to offer.”

All of this is news to him. Just a few days ago she’d told him she had never met either of the Wallaces, yet Cage is here disgruntled that Clarke had rejected Cage for him.

“That’s funny, Clarke claims she’s never met you.” It’s a measured tone, he watches carefully for a reaction, but Cage just laughs softly and shakes his head.

“Clarkes a liar.”

Bellamy frowns, about to defend her but Cage cuts him off.

“I mean it. Shes a damn good liar too, got a better poker face than any professional going.”

“You don’t know shit” Bellamy spits, Cage scoffs.

“No, you don’t know shit. You don’t have a clue who she really is. This nice girl act shes got going on with you, its bullshit. Why do you think she’s being sued for deformation of character? She accused me of murdering her father, as if I’d have gained from doing that. She’s out for my blood because of her own grief. She’d happily see my life destroyed if it made her feel better about her not being able to save him. How could I have murdered him if I’ve never met Clarke? Why me?”

He hates to admit it makes some sort of sense, but then, there’s a lot of this case he doesn’t know about. He tries not to get involved, he’s told Clarke he’s got her back but still – he doesn’t know enough about it.

His dreams don’t tend to lie though, and Jake had warned Clarke not to lead Cage on.

“So you’re here because what? You’re jealous? Because you want me to get Clarke to drop the case? Not happening.”

“What’s the damning evidence she says shes got against us?” He snarls, any pretence of false friendliness gone now.

“I’m not telling you.”

Th smiles back on Cages face, shark like and predatory, he’s out for blood. “Because there is none. I’m here to warn you. She’s not the girl you think she is, and she’s more than capable of breaking you and not thinking twice. Whoever you think she is, you’re dead wrong. She’s either going to crash and burn and bring you down with her, or she’s going to make a fatal mistake, and she’ll have to watch more than her back.”

“Get out” Bellamy snarled, pulling the front door open with a creak. Cage is still grinning at him like he’s prey, but Bellamy doesn’t break his glare. He’s not letting Cage win. “If you come near me or Clarke again, I’ll kill you.”

“Mr Blake, I wouldn’t even try”

Bellamy slams the door behind him, in the eerie silence that follows his departure, the only sound is his heart beating frantically.


	8. Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than what I would usually put up, but the second half to it i had planned out simply didn’t work no matter how many different ways i wrote it. In the end it wasn’t moving the plot forward, so it has been left as this simply to move forward.

Faculty meetings are his idea of hell. The staff rooms too small and cramped, nobodies comfortable and they're all dreading coming back in a couple of weeks. There's not even any students there to moan about yet.

Pike drivel's on about last years accomplishments and this years aims, most of which were met with unenthused hums and sighs. This was a small town with bored kids, Pike could put in as many behaviour policies as he liked, teenagers didn't give a shit about their policies and procedures, they'd still drop out and get pregnant at 16, they'd still kiss under the bleachers and set fire to trash cans. At some point in his life, he'd thought he could make a real difference, that teenagers would be as intrigued and inspired by history as he was, but in truth if he could make a difference to just one kid, he'd be happy.

After their briefing he sat down with Zoe, and a sense of normality came back as she moaned about the usual suspects, the trouble makers Bellamy couldn't help but have a soft spot for. They reminded him of Octavia, wild and rebellious. They reminded him a little of himself, not knowing what he had to live for so they make it about nothing, disruptive and a little rude, but soft under the surface, a need for attention they probably weren't getting at home. They make a plan for the year, Bellamy's got notes and so has Zoe. They cross-examine and make a plan. The cross over needs to be as seamless as possible until he comes back full time.

When it's over – and thank god it is, he's at a bit of a loss what to do with the rest of his day. His planning for the fall terms done, its too hot to work outside, even though he and Murphy had made a huge mess in the backyard that needed clearing, but it was a two-person job. So that leaves him with a free afternoon to do anything. Once he gets in the truck though, he knows there's only one place he wants to go.

He needs google maps to get there, which is embarrassing to say the least but its something that needs to change, it is changing - right now.

The building doesn't look how he expected, but then, he wasn't really sure what to expect. Not what looks like an old warehouse, painted a stark white with switched off string lights crisscrossing the small car park out front. It doesn't particularly look like an art gallery, but then, he doesn't really know what they're supposed to look like. The sign artfully painted above the steel doors tell him he's in the right place though.

When he walks in, there's a symphony of colours and an aura of relaxation. It's quiet in there, a woman in the corner with wild sunset hair is talking quietly on the phone behind the desk, but other than that he's alone in there. He doesn't feel awkward though, like he thought he would being the only person there. It's the kind of place people would come just to look around to take a moments peace from the hectic world outside the doors.

Clarkes nowhere to be seen, but her car was outside so he knows she's here. He's happy just looking around though. The gallery's sectioned off by artist, each unique in their style but somehow it works with the flow. Luna's art is calming, soft watercolours and quiet seas with all the tranquillity of listening to the peaceful lull of the waves.

There's someone called Nyko, whose art is bold and abstract is a way he doesn't really understand, but still, it's colourful and full of life. There's swirling patterns and lines and curves, the more he looks at it, the more gets it. There are pictures within the patterns, faces that only come apparent when you look at them a certain way.

He walks slowly around, taking in each picture, some are mysterious, some make him think and some make him laugh, but Clarkes is the last display he comes to. It's raw and painful, no longer the pretty sunsets she'd shown him on her phone, it's so intricately painted, there's so much emotion in it that it takes his breath away.

It's a series of paintings, the canvases spaced evenly apart tell a story that makes his heart drum wild in his chest. The first picture shows a hand, dainty and feminine gripping a bleeding heart, so tight it looks like it might burst as blood drips in streams down the hand and off the canvas. Over the paintings, the hand loosens and the heart lifts out of view. The hands left empty and no longer bloody, instead, there's a golden glow coming from above. On the thumb, there's a scar, small and familiar, he realises it's the same scar as on Clarke's thumb. Underneath it, a quote and a golden plaque.

_May I walk every day unceasing on the banks of my water, may my soul rest on the branches of the trees which I have planted, may I refresh myself in the shadow of my sycamore._

The plaque delicately engraved with _The Buoyant Heart by Clarke Griffin._ A not for sale sticker underneath it. It takes him a moment to pull himself away, but his heartstrings tug him back for a glance every so often.

There's another painting, a stormy sky over an angry sea and a lone figure knee-deep within the crashing waves. There are smaller canvases too; wilting funeral flowers, a flash of lightning in the midnight sky, a hand pressed to a headstone, the writing faint and unreadable but he knows who it belongs too, and his heart aches for her.

She rarely talks about him, and he can understand why she wouldn't talk to him, but he wonders if she talks to anyone, or if she takes out her grief on painting and lawsuits. She's so good at putting on a brave front, but her art shows something so painful he longs to just hold her.

"It's amazing, isn't it." Says a voice from behind him, making him jump as he's pulled unexpectedly from his thoughts. He realises that he's staring at _The Buoyant Heart_ again. The woman from the desk is standing next to him, when she got there he isn't quite sure though.

"Yeah" he breathes in agreement, there are so many words he wants to use to explain to the painting, there are so many emotions that slam into his chest and leave him breathless, he didn't understand before. He didn't understand how art could do that when Clarke spoke about it with so much passion, enough that she'd dedicate her livelihood on it, but now he sees it. He sees why people come and bid to have somebody else's paintings in their home, because for the first time its made him feel something that didn't belong to him.

"That's by the resident artist, Clarke. She based it on the ancient Egyptian belief that when you pass over to the afterlife, your heart is weighed against the feather of truth. If its lighter, you pass through, if it's not, Clarke said something about being eaten by a dog." The woman gives him a wry smile and a half shrug.

"Ammit." Bellamy smiles back with a nod.

"That's the one. I'm Luna, I own the Gallery if you need anything."

"I'm Bellamy, Clarke's boyfriend."

"Oh!" Lunas face lights up, he's suddenly paranoid about what's been said about him. "We didn't think you actually existed."

Bellamy snorts out a laugh, it could have been worse. "Oh I exist, has Clarke been keeping me under wraps?"

"Well it's just that she never brings you to any of the shows, we thought the picture on the front of her phone was a random man she met to stop us asking about her dating life."

There's a sadness and confusion that washes over him, does Clarke not bring him to the shows because she doesn't think he'd be interested in what she does? He guesses he's already shown that by the argument he started. God no wonder she doesn't bring him to these things when he acts like that.

His entire life he's been selfish with his relationships, never letting them progress from the fear of breaking their hearts when his heart inevitably gives out. But that's not the case anymore. He needs to learn how to be with another person, to talk things out healthily and not stew in his thoughts.

He's not being selfish anymore though, he's not losing her, not to his stupid mouth, and not to whatever the hell Cage Wallace has up his sleeve.

If she did lie to him about knowing Cage, he's giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"Definitely real." He assures her. "Is Clarke about?"

"She's in a meeting with a client, her studios upstairs though if you want to wait for her?"

"If you don't mind – or if Clarke won't mind."

Luna shrugs conspiringly "Only one way to find out, up the stairs and second door on the left, you'll know it's hers by how messy it is."

Considering how tidy Clarke kept her apartment most of the time, he's surprised by how chaotic her studio it. But it's a pleasant surprise, there's character there, it's lively and homely, its somewhere that is well lived in.

There's a stereo in the corner splattered in paint that looks like its seen better days, empty and half filled canvases on easels dotted around. Dirty paintbrushes and palettes with dried paint on on every surface, its anarchic and messy and so utterly Clarke.

Stacked in the corner, is a pile of canvases, different sizes and an array of colours peeking through. He crouches down in front of them and picks the first one up.

There's a burning red and gold, trees and buildings stand out black against it, it's achingly familiar. It takes a moment of staring to realise it's the sunset from their first date. Behind that, is a clearing in a forest, surrounded by deep green trees and symphony of stars, in the middle, Bellamy's truck, it's tiny and insignificant in compassion to the sky, it's how looking at the stars made him feel.

There are more paintings, each with more depth and emotion than he could have ever imagined being on one canvas.

He gets it, how Clarke processes things through her art.

Some pieces are angry, no particular rhyme or reason to the pictures, dark red centres that lead to blackness, heavy, angry strokes that leave the paint peaked and sharp.

A beach house on a sunny beach where children play and parents lounge fills him with emotions that don't belong to him, his heart drums wildly in recognition his eyes do not recall.

_"Did your mother talk to you about the beach house?"_

_"It's a big house that we don't use anymore. It's a bit sad to see it go but I know there are other families that would get more use out of it than ours"_

Bellamy's finger trace over the front porch, the reminiscence of happy memories he can't quite comprehend fill him, overwhelms him so much that he has to drop the canvas away from him and pick up another one.

There's one, right at the back that sends a chill up his spine. It's a funeral, faceless figures dressed in black standing around a coffin, they're blurred and unfocused, apart from one, set apart from the rest of the mourners, but they're sharp and focused, glaring daggers into him it's like they're in the same room as him.

It's Cage Wallace.

"Bellamy." Clarke's voice makes him jump, he has to scramble not to drop the canvas. "Hey."

"Hey." He stands a little awkwardly, he feels bad for looking through her paintings when she wasn't there, they're not on display, he doesn't know if she wants them to be seen. "Sorry, Luna let me in."

"No, it's fine, I just didn't expect you here is all." She smiles at him, dimples flashing. He strides to meet her and wraps his arms around her, holding her close. She squeezes him back, head resting on his chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't come before."

"It's okay." She murmurs "You're here now."

He squeezes his eyes shut "It's not okay. I've been a shit boyfriend."

She hums against his chest. "You're lucky I've been too busy to break up with you."

He laughs and kisses her head, she smiles up at him, soft and pretty, he doesn't deserve her.

"Can we talk?"

The smile slips off her face and morphs into concern or fear. "Yeah." She nods anyway. There's a stool next to a that’s desk covered in paint tubes, she ignores it though and opts for sitting on the desk, so he pulls the stool so he can sit in front of her, hand resting on her knee.

He takes a deep breath, wanting to get everything out now in the open. Hopefully, they can move on then.

"I didn't grow up with a lot." He starts "I raised Octavia from more or less the second she was born, I had to work from the day I was legally allowed to. I worked two jobs through College and had to utilise every skill I had to get a decent job so I could raise my sister and pay for the insurance and whatever they didn't cover. It's always been a struggle, there's a bitterness that I took out on you, and that wasn't right. I let my temper get the better of me and it wasn't fair on you. I know I've said it before but I truly am sorry, for everything."

There are tears in her eyes but she smiles anyway. "I didn't help the tension." She says it like a confession, maybe that's what this, they confess their sins and move away from it. "I was getting consumed by the case and with everything going on there and coming back to you in a bad mood and telling you not to get involved with the case when you tried to help. I pushed you away and you pushed me away too. Going forward we need to stop this."

"Agreed." He smiles, standing to kiss the tip of her nose. It earns him a smile brighter than the sun, he's not letting her go, not now. "Point number two though, Cage Wallace came to my house last night."

Her face crumbles, distraught fear in her eyes. "Bellamy." She barely utters as she shakes her head.

"He said that you're a liar, that you were trying to destroy his life to make yourself feel better. He said he'd come to warn me that you're going to crash and burn or make a fatal mistake, I think it was a warning to you though."

A sob rises in her throat, he stands and holds her, letting her cry into his shirt. "I'm so sorry." She gasps. "I never meant for you to get involved. I tried to keep you out of it."

"It's okay." He soothes. "It's going to be fine. I just want to know what's going on. You said you had never met him but he says something different."

"I know." She finally admits, "I know, but I can't let you get involved with this, I thought keeping you out of it in the first place would protect you."

"Clarke." He sighs "What is going on with you and Cage?"

_Don't lead Cage on – _

"I didn't really know who he was when my dad started working for them. I mean – everybody knew of them, but I'd never met them. When he finished the blueprints everything was fine, then one day Cage just started hanging around all of a sudden, he was at the same parties, showed up at the galleries I was showing my art at before I settled here, it was weird. Everybody said he liked me but it wasn't – he didn't _like_ me, he was trying to get information out of me. Every conversation went back to my dad and if he'd mentioned anything about the work he'd done for them.

"Then one day, my dad went to check on the work he'd done there and Cage went really, really strange. He turned up at my apartment in the middle of the night and demanded to know what my dad found. It went on like that, my dad told me not to worry about it, Cage kept insisting I tell him what I knew. The night he died, my dad was really – I don't know, he freaked out, he'd been fighting with my mom and he was on his way to see me. It was something to do with the Wallaces, with the work he'd done for them, Cage wouldn't be so insistent if there wasn't something wrong."

_Don't you dare bring Clarke into this,_ Abby had insisted in his dream. _This has nothing to do with her._

_This has everything to do with her. _

What did Jake Griffin know?

"Oh, Clarke." He sighs, sat on the desk shes the same height as him. He leans forward and presses his forehead to hers. Her intuition about Cage was right.

"I don't know what I've gotten myself into." She sniffs. "I thought it was going to be an easy case, I thought it would be straight forward. I didn't think it would end up like this, if Cage is coming after you I don't know what he'll do next. I thought I had him figured out."

"Hey." He wipes a tear away with his thumb "I'll be alright, it's you I'm worried about. Cage seems dangerous and he's pissed off."

"I know. I'm scared." She confesses quietly.

"I won't let anything happen to you." He promises. He meant what he said before. "If he comes near you again, I told him I'd kill him, and I will."

"You'd kill Cage Wallace for me?"

"Anytime, just say the word." He smirks, she grins back and the tensions disappear. "Have you got time to go out for lunch?"

"I'm sure I can make time for you."

*

A week later, he's cooking at Clarke's apartment, reluctant to start work again but he knows he's got a week to prepare. Clarke sits on the side next to him, occasionally stealing a forkful of food from the pan. She calls it taste testing, he calls her impatient.

She laughs when he swats her hand away from the pan for the fourth time playfully.

"It's not ready." He grumbles when she dips a finger in.

"Hmm, needs more seasoning." She agrees with a cheeky smile. He rolls his eyes at her but digs through the spice rack anyway.

It's nice, peaceful and domestic. He hopes they can stay that way, now they've got their feelings in the open. There's always a lingering worry in the back of mind though. What will Cage do next? While Bellamy is fairly certain he won't act on any threat he makes, he doesn't know him well enough to know for sure.

Clarke knows him better, though. While she tries to push away his concern, he can see there's fear there too, but stubbornness as well – she won't give up on the case without a fight.

She shouldn't have to, either. She should be able to fight for the truth without fear.

Putting the lid over the pan, he sidesteps to where Clarkes perched and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. She grins up at him and winds her arms around his neck, hooking her legs around his waist.

"That needs at least an hour to simmer. So we've got an hour to do whatever." He tells her, leaning forward to brush his lips against hers.

"I can think of a few things we can do in an hour" she hums against his lips. He deepens the kiss, tongue brushing against hers as she twists her fingers in his hair. His hand wanders from her waist to the exposed skin on her thigh.

They're interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.

"I'm getting a sense déjà vu" he sighs as he moves back so she can jump off the side.

"I'm not expecting anyone" she frowns, moving towards the door.

"Delivery for Clarke Griffin." A kid at the door says, handing over a box.

"Thanks." Clarke smiles before kicking the door shut. "Who the hells delivering packages this time at night?"

He shrugs but looks over curiously. "Did you order anything?"

"Not that I remember, pass me a knife to cut it open?"

He takes a knife out the draw and hands it over to her. There's nothing particularly defining about the box, plain without so much as a return address, just Clarkes address written in marker on the top and taped up with parcel tape. There's a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but Clarke doesn't seem too bothered by it. She slices through the tape and pulls upon the tab. Inside is a polystyrene box. She looks to him and frowns, but shrugs and pulls the lids of.

"Oh my god" she gasps, jumping up and stumbling back. The colour drains from her face and leaves her ashy and trembling. With a cautioned step he looks in the box then hisses, pulling Clarke behind him instinctively.

"What the hell is that?" Fear courses through him in icy shards, sending his blood cold and making his hands tremble. Inside the box is bloody and grotesque, something he's spent his entire life thinking about but never actually thought he'd have in his grasp.

It's a message, a warning or a threat.

"It's a Heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was requested as a prompt for Bellarkfic for BLM by The lovely kguptill. If you haven’t already heard of it, myself and other writers are accepting prompts for a small donation towards any BLM charity. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @excuseyouclarke


	9. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one week? I don’t know whats going on either. 
> 
> Warning for some violence at the end of the chapter.

“Would you think I’m weird if I said your tap water tasted strange?” He calls from the kitchen, curling his lips up. Somehow, the water tasted…off. Did water even go off? 

“Normally yes.” Clarke called from the bedroom “But Roan and Niylah say the same. There's bottled water in the fridge.” 

He grabs a bottle and sits on the sofa, it's soft and ridiculously comfy, he kind of wants to steal it and take it back to his house. Clarke had told him he had no chance. He settles back into though, Clarke said she’d be ready in five minutes, but that was half an hour ago. 

After practically raising his sister, he knows better than to question how long women will be when they’re getting ready. 

“You better not be wrinkling your tux.” Clarke shouts, and he immediately sits bolt upright. He’s sure she can see through walls.

“I’m not.” He assures her.

The waits worth it. It always is with her. She emerges wearing a deep blue floor-length gown, it dips low at the neckline and gathers in a scoop, tiny spaghetti straps cross her shoulders, exposing the tiny smattering of freckles over her shoulders and down her arms. She fixing a pair of dainty, dangling earrings in when she asks “How do I look?”

He’s not sure there are the right words. He can't look away from her. “You’re perfect.”

She blushes and ducks her head. There's more meaning to he words than just how she looks. She’s strong and fierce, kind, caring and passionate. She’s so damn talented he doesn’t understand how her works not in museums.

“Your bow ties not on right.” She laughs as she walks over to him to undo it. He blushes now - he’s never worn a tuxedo before, never really had a reason to, but when Clarke asked him to go to the Gallery’s monthly exhibition night, he was more than eager to pick up a tux for the event. He saw how hard she and Luna worked for it, and her work was going to be displayed, he wishes he’d had gone to one sooner. 

He’s here now. They’re starting fresh, not pushing each other away and being open. 

The last couple of days have been testing, though. Both of them worried about what Cage is planning. Roan had assured them it wasn’t a human heart sent in the box, but he was confident it was Cage who sent it as a warning. Which made both Clarke and Roan confident he was hiding something.

Someone innocent wouldn’t send a Heart in the mail.

So while they couldn’t talk about it in the press – they didn’t even have proof it was from Cage – they couldn’t even use it as evidence, it spurred the case on. There was a feeling that they were so close, the truth was in their grasp yet it was just too far away still.

There's something in the back of his mind about it though, maybe it’s the dreams, maybe it’s a suspicion he can't quite comprehend yet. Whatever it is, when it bubbles to the surface he feels there will be hell to pay for it. 

She pats his chest and beams up at him. “Now you’re perfect.”

He’s suddenly a little nervous, he shouldn’t be – it's ridiculous but his palms sweat a bit anyway.

“I got you a present.” He says it entirely too fast, she blinks up at him in surprise.

“Bell, you didn’t have to.”

He shrugs a little awkwardly and blushes “Well, I saw it and thought of you.”

“Oh?” She smiles softly as he walks to the bag he’d hid it in. He turns the box over in his hands, long and velvety and probably a bit more than he could afford, but when he’d seen it in the shop window he couldn’t resist it. He pulls the chain out of the box, gold and dainty with a star pendant, flecked with tiny diamonds and a sapphire in the middle that sparkles in the light. 

“Turn around.” He murmurs, she does with a trill of excitement and he brushes her hair from her neck and clasps the necklace. He places a kiss on her shoulder and steps back while she looks at it. 

“Bellamy it’s beautiful.” She sighs “I love it thank you.”

“When I saw it, it reminded me of the night we went star gazing and the blue reminded me of your eyes.” He’s never been one to be outrightly sappy, so he blushes when he says it. He’s never been a big romantic, never really been one for grand gestures but there's something about her that makes him want to. 

Her smile lights up his heart. She steps forward and winds her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his he has everything he could possibly want. When they pull away he presses his forehead to hers, letting out a shaky laugh. “We’re going to be late if we keep doing this.”

She hums in response but makes no move to leave. “We could be a _little_ bit late.”

“It’s your exhibition.”

“Exactly. The party can't start until I get there.” She leans forward again to kiss him, but loosens her arms after and grabs her purse from the kitchen. “You’re not drinking, right?”

“Nope.” He shrugs, he won’t do it, he won’t waste his perfectly good heart by drinking it away. 

“Good.” She throws him her car keys, he catches them with ease and raises a brow at her. “You’re letting me drive your sports car?”

“Mm-hmm. Perks of having a designated driver. It’s got some power, I’m warning you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” He grins.

She was right, it did have power. And it drove smoother than anything he’s been in before. The roads in Polis were smooth and uninterrupted when Clarke shows him the back ways to the gallery so he can put his foot down. She doesn’t complain when he takes the corners a bit too fast to test the handling, but then, he’s been in the car when she drives, the cars plenty used to going around corners too fast. 

He’s almost disappointed when they get to the Gallery, but he’s got the ride home to look forward to. 

He expected her to be excited, but instead shes staring out the window carefully blank, worry twists in him.

“Hey.” He murmurs, taking her hand. “Are you alright?”

She nods, but it doesn’t convince him. “Are you nervous about the exhibition?”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Cage?” He guesses, she turns to him with her lips pressed tightly together. He rubs a thumb soothingly over her hand. “He’d be an idiot to try anything tonight, with so many people around. I won’t let anything happen to you. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”

She seems appeased by it, so she leans forward and kisses his cheek. “Okay, let's go. I hope you’re prepared to meet some interesting people.”

“What do you mean by interesting?”

“Oh.” She grins “You’ll see.”

As it turns out, interesting was putting it lightly. 

The gallery had been rearranged now, more artists work was on display now, each piece held their own narrative and character. Each artist that went with it held their own character too, a bubbly woman with bright orange hair and glasses with no lenses talked brightly about her paintings, which included a body holding its severed head in its hands and a woman in a Victorian dress holding a muddy shovel over a grave. For all the eerie paintings she had on display he doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone quite so happy and bright. 

Nyko, whose paintings were on display before was a great, burly man with tribal tattoos and a scar running down his face who gave Bellamy some good advice about restoring his garden. 

When he watches them interact with critics though, its cutthroat. They picked apart every bit of they work and their love for it in the same of objectivity. Bellamy wonders what gives them the right to judge a persons passion so harshly, but it was a business too.

As much as he’d enjoyed talking to the artists, each passionate and dedicated to their work in a way he’d never seen before, he was happy to stand back and people watch. Going to art showings was never something he never would have done before meeting Clarke, now he feels like he’s more than missed out. Not just on this part of Clarke, either. It’s the entire experience and atmosphere, he’s never much-appreciated art, but he can appreciate the hard work and dedication the artists have for their craft. It’s a competitive market to actually _make it. _

He’s proud of Clarke for doing that, for making it in an area she loves. It would be a crime for her talents to go to waste. 

He’s wandered back over to Clarkes section, _The Buoyant Heart_ proudly at its centre, still not for sale but there's other pieces around it that are for sale – each almost as beautiful and soulful as she is. 

“Talented, isn’t she?” A voice drawls from next to him. He’s once again so lost in her work that he didn’t hear anyone approach. It’s not Luna this time, it's an older man, with white hair and cold eyes. Bellamy recognises him vaguely but can’t quite place his face.

“Very.” He agrees, looking back to her pieces on the wall.

“You must be very proud.”

Bellamy blinks in surprise. Though it has never been a secret they’re together, Clarkes been networking most of the night, every time he’s looked over to her she’s been engaged in conversation with someone new. She sneaks grins to him every so often, but mostly he’s been happy just roaming. He knows this is her business, he doesn’t expect her to be glued to his hip. 

“I’m extremely proud. Do you know Clarke?”

He stares at Bellamy for a beat too long, sizing him up. “I knew her father. Worked with him for a while, it’s a damn shame what happened to him.”

‘It was.” Bellamy agrees, mainly because he can't think of anything else to say. He never knew Jake Griffin, but he’s always here with him – literally in his heart, but his head too. Sending him messages he can't always decipher.

“I suppose it worked out for the best for you though.” 

Bellamy stiffens, it’s a sore point that nobody ever dares bring up. 

“I mean, it got you a new heart that I hear you so desperately needed, and it got you a girlfriend with more money than sense.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He growls, the face is more familiar now, a vendetta against Clarke.

“Nothing, I mean no offence by it.” He almost seems offended by Bellamy’s offence. “It’s just - you’ve not done bad, for a small-town high school teacher who had a few months to live.”

Dante Wallace. He knew of him, but he wasn’t like Cage, he wasn’t in the news or making statements, he was the business side, not public. So to see him standing here in front of Clarke's artwork was disturbing.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want you to talk some sense into that girlfriend of yours. She’s causing me a hell of a lot of trouble. She’s mentally unstable and that lawyer of hers is encouraging her. She needs to see that she’ll get nowhere doing what she’s doing.”

“She seems to be getting to _you._”

Dante doesn’t answer, just stares straight ahead at _The Buoyant Heart_, champagne glass clutched in his hand so firm his fingers go pale. 

“I hope you liked your present.” He murmurs, Bellamy’s blood runs cold. The Heart wasn’t a warning to Clarke, it was sending him a message. 

“It was very considerate,” Bellamy answers straight-faced, not letting him see how disturbed he was by it. “Though next time chocolates would be more appreciated.”

They’re watching him. He’s close to Clarke so he’s close to the case, and they’ll do anything to get this case closed down, to conceal whatever it is they’re hiding. Even send him body parts in a box.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You should keep in mind that you’re on the wrong of this case. When Clarke burns you’ll burn with her.”

He stiffens, the threat there not even concealed. He looks back to Clarke, shes smiling politely at a man in a suit that doesn’t fit, but that seems to be the fashion. She hasn’t looked over, he doubts she knows Dantes here – there's no tension in her, he hopes it stays that way.

“I’ll say the same thing to you that I said to your son. You touch a hair on her head, you breathe too close to her and I will end you, got it?”

Dante smiles at him, it’s sadistic and cold and it turns Bellamy’s stomach. 

“I’m sure you would try, Mr Blake. I’m sure you would try indeed. But think about which side you want to be on when this crashes and burns, and think about what happens when your girlfriend crumbles and you’re left to pick up the pieces.”

Bellamy doesn’t grace him with an answer, just stares ahead and tries to block him out. He came here especially to get to him, and he won't let him do it – or at least, he won't show that he has. 

“Have a good night, Mr Blake. Send my regards to your girlfriend on her fantastic exhibition.”

He moves so silently it’s eerie. Bellamy doesn’t watch him leave, but instead looks over to Clarke. Still talking happily, no idea what has just happened. 

When she’s finally free for a minute, she goes over and wraps his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you.” He murmurs, it's winding down now, most pieces have _sold_ stickers proudly underneath them, all of Clarke's pieces have apart from the ones that aren’t for sale. 

“Thank you.” She leans back into him, skin flushed from the champagne and giddiness. He won't tell her about Dante, he doesn’t want to ruin the evening or worry her, and it seemed to be him they were after, telling her will only wind her up. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did.” He means it, for the most part, he does. He’s enjoyed getting out of Arkadia, something he didn’t know he needed to do, but he needed the new experience, he needed to meet new people and hear of new ideas. 

He’s needed her for longer than he’s known. He’s been stuck in his same old habits for far too long.

“Good.” She sighs. People are slowly making their way out now, just a few stragglers left behind. “I’ve got a few things left to do but then we’ll go. I’m dying to get out of this dress.”

“I’m dying to get you out of that dress.”

She laughs and turns her head towards him to kiss his hair, it’s a little sloppy and awkward, it's endearingly Clarke. “I suddenly have a few less things to do.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

*

He sits on his visit from Dante for a couple of days, not really sure what he’s supposed to do about it, if he should tell Clarke or if it's going to make it worse. He needs to tell someone though. So he makes a plan. 

But before his plan can be set in motion, there's one small thing he has to do.

It’s the first day back to work. He’s excited and nervous, though he’s not quite sure why. It’s the same things he’s done since grad school, he’s worked at the same high school in the same town, taught the same things to the same disinterested faces. 

He’s not sure why he thought it would be different this time around. He’s got the syllabus and the lesson plans, and he tries to make them as exciting as possible, but the fact of the matter is they’re teenagers, they’re only going to be interested if they actually care about it. 

Most don’t. 

He’s spent most of his day answering questions about his transplant, like the students aren’t completely transparent in their attempts to distract him away from doing actual work. 

It works, but only because it’s the first day and he’s giving them a period of grace. So he lets them ask their millions of absurd questions, although some have it right on the mark when they ask if he has any memories that aren’t his own. Since they’re teenagers and nosy, but also love a good dramatic story he tells them about the dreams of the crash that killed his donor. 

They eat it up, totally engrossed by the story until the bell rings and they’ve forgotten about it already. 

“You’re the talk of the school.” Roma smiles from where she's leaning against the doorway.

“I figured I’d let them get their questions out the way early so we can spend the rest of the semester actually learning.”

“Do you actually think that will work?” She smirks, he just shrugs. No, he doesn’t think that will work, but he has to at least try.

“Well, you’re all they’re talking about.” She walks in and sits perched on the edge of his desk. Once upon a time, he held a bit of a flame for Roma, she held one for him, too. They had a fling in college, before Gina and before he decided that he wouldn’t do that anymore – relationships. Hurting people more when he died. 

“They’ll have forgotten all about it tomorrow.”

“Teenagers are funny like that, aren’t they?”

He huffs out a laugh. She was right, teenagers had short attention spans and no long term perspective. What seems important one day is forgotten in a minute. 

“Is this your girlfriend?” She picks up the framed picture of him and Clarke, taken before the Gallery exhibition when his bow tie was still straight and her hair was perfect. They’re both beaming in front of her pieces, her name proud in bold on the stark wall. 

“Yeah, that’s Clarke.” There's a look in Roma's eyes that he can't quite figure out. 

“She’s pretty.” She says shortly, still staring down at the photograph. 

“I think so.”

She laughs at that. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you settle down. We all thought maybe Gina was the one but,” she shrugs “Apparently not.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever want to settle down until I met Clarke.” He confesses. She puts the picture down softly and smiles.

“Well, I’m happy for you.”

He blinks in surprise, there's a sort of vague hurt in her eyes, like she thought once he was better, once he was cleared maybe she could have been the one. 

“Thanks.”

When she’s gone, he traces his finger over the picture of the two of them. He’d never really believed in _the one, _but he did believe that his soul was connected to Clarkes more than he ever thought possible. 

Which leads him to the next part of his day. The office block is ridiculously fancy, the glass elevator and plush flooring is the highest of luxury compared to most offices he’s been in.

He didn’t call ahead to see if he was in, so he’s relieved when Niylah smiles at I’m and buzzes him through to Roan's office. 

The office itself is exactly what he’d expected of Roan, over the top and sparkling new, looking more like a showroom than somewhere he spent most of his time working.

“Bellamy.” He narrows his eyes but nods towards the leather seat in front of the desk. “This is a surprise.”

“Tell me about it.” He mutters as he sinks into the seat. He’ll add it to the list of furniture he’s stealing for his house. “I needed to tell someone something and you seemed to be the best person for it.”

“Sounds vague, I’m interested.”

“Right,” Bellamy mutters. “The other night, at Clarke's exhibition, Dante Wallace was there.”

It piques Roan's interest, he sits up straight and looks him over appraisingly. “Clarke never mentioned anything, we have a strict policy that she tells me anytime she has contact with the Wallaces.”

“Because he didn’t go to see Clarke, he came to see me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Bellamy nods solemnly. “The Heart that was sent to Clarke’s - that was a message to me. Or a threat, I’m not sure.”

Roan pulls out a notebook from a draw and a pen “Tell me exactly what he said.”

“He said he wanted me to talk some sense into Clarke, and when she burns I’ll burn with her. I told him if either of them touches her, I’ll kill them. I mean it too.”

Roans silent as he scribbles down what Bellamy’s hold him. It feels a bit better to get it off his chest, and he’s confident Roan was the best person to tell about it, even if he does look at him like he’s a bug sometimes.

“Do I tell Clarke about this?” Bellamy asks, feeling stupidly small and way out his depth.

Roan groans and drags a hand over his face, looking bone tired and weary. He can't even begin to imagine how long this case has been, its been going on since before he and Clarke met, since his transplant presumably. He knows this hasn’t been easy either, he’s seen how stressed and down Clarke has been about it. It seems to be getting a hell of a lot worse before its getting even close to being better. 

“No, absolutely not unless you really want to tip her over the edge. You know, when I took this case I thought it was a sure thing. I thought they’d just give her a payout and you know, try and brush her under the carpet. I didn’t think for one moment they’d come after her the way that they did. I didn’t think Clarke would go in as hard as she did.”

Bellamy pauses before he asks his next question he reminds himself that Roan is a lawyer, this is his career, his livelihood. “Do you believe her, when she says they killed her father? Do you think they did it with the evidence you have?”

Roan stares at him hard, like he’s trying to see through him. “At first, no. But it was business and if there was a chance she could be right it would be a massive case. However, the more I looked into it and the more I found out about the Wallaces – and Cages obsession with her I think she’s right.”

_Cages obsession with her. _

It makes him feel sick. Turns his stomach and makes him never want to leave Clarke's side. 

“Do you?”

The question surprises him, he’s never actually thought about if he believes her, he’s always felt it.

“Yes. They wouldn’t be doing all of this if she was lying. As you said, they’d have given her hush money and sent her away.”

Roan nods in approval at him. “Good, she needs someone on her side.”

“I want to help,” Bellamy tells him. “Anything I can do, I want to help in some way.”

“Then don’t get involved,” Roan tells him bluntly. It surprises him, and it must show because Roan explains “Clarke has enough going on, if anything happens with the case there’s Niylah and me there straight away, but at the end of the day she needs peace away from that, she needs someone who’s not going to talk legal, she just needs a hand to hold. So if you want to help, put her first.”

“That was profound.”

“Thanks” Roan smirks. “But seriously, if the Wallaces are after you, its bad news - they’re bad news. If they try and get in contact with you again, give me a call. No matter what time it is, I want to know. I need every ounce of evidence against them I can get.”

“Okay.” Bellamy agrees with a nod. He takes what Roan said to heart, he won’t get overly involved, but he’ll support her because that’s what she needs. 

*

Their relationship has to adjust to them both working now, Bellamy’s out from 7:30 when Clarke’s still asleep, and Clarke gets back late when he’s getting ready for bed. He spends the weekends with her in Polis but it makes their time together sweeter. 

It's two weeks after he’s gone back to work that he really sits down and takes a good look at her, sitting at the island in her kitchen she’s pushing the risotto he’s made around the plate, barely eating it. She’s pale and tired, dark circles under her eyes and he notices when they’re in bed that she’s lost weight, losing it fast too. 

“Hey.” He catches her attention, looking up sharply at him. “Are you alright?”

She nods, its half-hearted and when she smiles it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Is everything going alright, with the case and everything?” he tried not to push her to talk about it, just being there with her if she needs anything, holding her a little tighter at night. But now he can’t hide his concern. 

“Yeah, well as well as it can be, there’s no real change.”

“You don’t look…well.” He didn’t know how to broach it without saying she looks like shit, but she does. 

“I don’t feel great.” She sighs. “I don’t have an appetite and I can’t sleep but I’m tired all the time.” Tears spark in her eyes and it pulls on his heart. He stands and goes to her, wrapping his arms around her. She buries her head in his chest and clings to him tight. She feels vulnerable like this, a side she doesn’t like to show. “I just feel ill all the time.”

“Do you need to see a doctor? Maybe you should make an appointment?” 

She shakes her head against his chest. “I think it’s just a bug, Luna’s been feeling the same recently, a few people have. It's probably just something going around. It’ll pass soon.”

He’s not convinced, but he nods anyway. “I’m here.” He assures her. “Whatever you need I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

They go to bed earlier than usual, but Clarke looks like she needs it. When he finally goes to sleep, his dreams aren’t like they usually are. He’s dreamt of a beach house, that looks so familiar but he can't quite place it. 

Tonight, he dreams of Jakes laptop, and emails – so many emails sent to every single important person he can think of. Governors, senators, the mayor of Polis, there's a list so long he can barely keep up with it. 

He can’t shake that dream the coming week, it comes and goes, everything vague and blurry, he wishes he had something concrete to work with, but there’s nothing. 

Just emails.

He’s debating if he should bring it up with Clarke. His dreams before have lead to something more, but can’t just tell her there are some emails they should be looking at.

She texts him to say she’s not going into work, so he makes an on the spot decision after work to go and surprise her. She could do with it, they’ll go out or dinner or get take out and watch a movie or something. 

There's something off when he gets there though, even from the end of the hallway it’s a gut feeling that something wasn’t right and when he gets to her door, his stomach sinks. 

Her doors ajar, Clarke would never, ever leave her door open. Its always locked, she’s paranoid at the best of times. She doesn’t even leave it unlocked, let alone open. He pushes through the door to see Cage, spitting angry cornering Clarke against the refrigerator. She staring at him with fear and contempt, but he’s bigger than her, and he’ll overpower her in an instant. 

He’s striding forward, about to shout for him to get the hell away from her when she raises her hands to push him away. It doesn’t work, and his forearm comes up and presses against her throat, cutting off her air. She chokes and claws at his arm but its no use. Her knee comes up sharply between his legs and he stumbles back as Bellamy reaches them.

He doesn’t even think about it when his arm jerks back and his fist collides with Cages mouth, then his eye, then his nose.

He stops, seeing Cage glaring and bloody underneath him and hearing Clarke gasping for breath. 

“Get the fuck out of here before I do something I can’t take back, and I swear I will.”

Cage spits blood out his mouth and stands abruptly, storming out the apartment and slamming the door behind him. Clarke’s sitting gasping on the floor, her neck red and angry he doesn’t hesitate to crawl over to her and pull her onto his lap, holding her close and waiting for her breaths to even out again.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Clarke?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m accepting prompts on Tumblr (@excuseyouclarke) for Bellarkefic-for-blm. Check it out here - https://bellarkefic-for-blm.carrd.co/


	10. Part 10

_His dreams try so desperately hard to snap into focus, but there’s something there, something stopping him from seeing clearly. He’s still sending emails, hands shaking in desperation for somebody to just do something, anything. _

_But nobody’s listening to him. His emails go unanswered so he sends more, each more pressing than the last but there's a deep fear that this is all a cover-up, the repercussions not as dire as taking down the Wallaces would be. _

_Don’t they see that this will affect them too? Can’t they understand that without fixing it the entire city will suffer?_

_Do they even care? Or are the people they swore to protect less important than keeping up a good reputation?_

_What did the Wallaces have over these people?_

_His dream morphs, twists sideways and he’s in Clarke's apartment again, Cage pinning her against the refrigerator but now he can’t move, his legs won't cooperate with what his mind is telling him and Clarke can't getaway. Her face is getting redder, slowly turning purple and her chokes slowly die until there's no sound until she slumps on the floor._

He wakes drenched in sweat with his heart beating erratically. It’s been a long time since he’s thought his heart wasn’t his, but still there’s memories that do not belong to him.

There’s memories that are his, though. Cage pinning Clarke by the throat being the most haunting.

_This case is going to end up with somebody in a body bag, and I’ll be damned if it’s yours._

That’s what he’d told her when she’d calmed down enough to have a conversation. 

This was more than just cut brake lines. He knows it is and it’s right there, dancing on the edge of his consciousness but he just can’t figure out what _it _is. 

Something needs to be done though. He can’t wake up drenched in sweat anymore, he can’t keep thinking about Clarke dying at Cage Wallace's hands. 

Roan had told him that going to the police would be useless. There’s not a single person in power that is not in the Wallaces pocket. At worst the situation would be turned around on them and it would make it worse for them. At best it would be swept under the rug. How was he supposed to just sit back and let this happen though?

How were the Wallaces that spooked about accusations from one person?

Because she was close to the mark, too close. She was doing what nobody else dared to do – stand up to them.

When the sun comes up and he deems it an acceptable time to make phone calls, he calls Roan and hopes to whatever god is out there he doesn’t sound like a madman. 

“You need to look through Jake Griffin's emails.” He tells Roan, who’s barely given him a greeting. 

There's a moments silence, then a sigh “Why would I want to look through those, exactly?”

Bellamy clenches his jaw, he needs to bite the bullet and give some sort of an explanation to get him to listen.

“I can’t tell you how I know, but I need you to trust me when I say I just know there's something in the emails. He was sending something to everybody relatively important to Polis; politicians, the Mayor, anyone. But there's something to do with the Wallaces in there.”

Another silence, he didn’t succeed in not sounding like a madman, of course he didn’t. His girlfriends' dead father is sending him messages in his sleep. 

“Clarke said you know things you shouldn’t know, she sad you knew exactly where to find the Wallace files on his computer?”

“I did.” Bellamy answers quickly, not wanting to lose him “I can’t tell you how, but I just knew.”

“Going through someone’s emails – even after they’ve deceased is questionable. Going through the laptop was one thing but the emails? I’d need a damn good reason and I don’t think you have a hunch would cut it, no matter what your track record is. I could get into a lot of trouble for that.”

“Then say you just happened upon the information, but you don’t know what you’ll find until you at least look.”

“Okay.” Roan reluctantly agrees. “_If_ I can get into them and _if_ there’s information on them that I deem necessary to the case, then I’ll worry about not losing my license to practice law. But until then there's some big Ifs.”

“I just want you to look. It might be nothing but – ”

“It might be something.” Roan agrees, and that's a massive relief, a weight lifted off his shoulders. It has to be there. It cant be anywhere now. They’ve been through the laptop with a fine-toothed comb, there's nothing incriminating whatsoever. 

If there's not, he’s not sure what they’ll do. The case will be all but over with no evidence to back up Clarke case. She’ll be devastated. 

He doesn’t tell her about his dreams, or that he’s contacted Roan. If it does turn out to be nothing, he doesn’t want to get her hopes up in the first place. 

Well, Clarkes not answering her phone to tell her anything. It is early though, and she hasn’t been well so he tries not to worry too much. 

But after everything that happened with Cage and her not being well, not worrying is easier said than done. He gives it until midday. Since he’s not working that day he’s got too much time to sit and overthink. 

Midday comes on the dot and when she hasn’t responded to his texts or answered his calls, he’s about to get in his truck and drives to polis. He doesn’t care If he’s being obsessive or overprotective, he needs to know that she's alright. 

But she calls him then, and he sighs in relief as he answers the phone. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t sound alright, she sounds tired and ill, but at least shes answered the phone. “Sorry, I’ve just woken up, I keep puking my guts up every time I drink anything.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” He frowns. “Do you want me to come around?”

“No, you can’t, if you get ill it’s a lot worse for you than it is for me.”

She's right. With his immunosuppressants, even a cold can be detrimental for him. If shes got a bug that means she can't keep anything down, it was going to be a lot worse if he got it. But still, it hurts that he can’t go and see her when she’s ill. Especially with how bad she’s been looking the past few days. 

“Okay.” He reluctantly agrees. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it, I can leave it outside your door but don’t sit in your apartment without something you need just because you’re worried about me.”

There's a pause, then “I need to go, I’m going to – ”

The phone cuts off, but she didn’t need to finish that sentence, he knows how it ends. 

It’s annoying, having to sit around when he knows that he could be doing something to help, anything. Instead, he overthinks – his favourite pastime recently. If Clarke can’t keep down water she could get dehydrated. 

Her water was weird at the best of times, there was a strange taste that he couldn’t quite get used to so he’d stuck to drinking bottled water there. Clarke would just smile and shake her head at him.

_I’ll have you know this is the best filtered water, my dad designed the system._

He doesn’t know why he puts it together, he might not have even put anything together, but it comes in a flash. 

Her dad designed the water system for the Wallaces, it was fine until he went and inspected it, the emails, Jakes saying he was going to go public with the information, the cut break lines – something was wrong with the water system. 

The water was contaminated. 

He gets in his truck and tries to call Roan, but it gets cut off or his phones engaged. 

“Fuck.” He growls, hitting the steering wheel. Clarkes not answering her phone either, but he’s got a key to let himself in.

She’s laying down on the couch when he gets there, not even bothering to knock. 

“Clarke, wake up.” He tries to rouse her, but she groans and buries her head in the pillow. “Clarke baby please.”

Her eyes stay shut though, screw up tighter when he talks. He stands to go to the kitchen, switching on the tap he grabs a glass and puts it under the stream, then holds it up to the light. There's a tinge of brown that makes him feel sick. No wonder she was so damn ill.

If only Roan would answer his damn phone. 

He grabs a bottle of water and goes back to Clarke, she at least looks at him this time, which is a bit of relief but, her eyes are bloodshot and watery. 

“It’s okay.” He soothes, rubbing her back. “Do you think you can sit up and have a drink?”

She shakes her head “No it won’t stay down.”

“Clarke you need to drink, not the tap water drink this.” He holds the bottle out to her, she takes it shakily, looking at it confused. 

“Why not tap water?”

“Just, trust me, please.”

She nods and sips tentatively, for a moment he thinks she’ll be alright, but she heaves and darts for the bathroom. He follows fast and holds her hair back, what little water she’d drank had gone now.

“Sorry,” He winces when she sits back “I won’t ask you to trust me again.”

She throws him a well-deserved glare. “I’m holding you to that.”

He helps her up and back to the sofa. She lies with her head in his lap as he cards his fingers through her hair. She falls asleep and he sends a text to Roan with his theory, but since he’s not answering, he suspects he may have come to the same conclusion as Bellamy. 

He counts Clarke's breaths, slow and even and worries more and more about what will happen if she can’t keep water down. He hopes that if she can flush it out her system she’ll be alright but then, he really doesn’t have a clue what he’s dealing with here. 

She jerks up suddenly, making him jump in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

She blinks at him like shes suddenly realised he’s there. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Clarke – ”

“No. Your meds, if you get sick – ”

“Clarke don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine, believe me just lie back down, please.”

In a true testament to how bad she must be feeling, she doesn’t fight him and lays her head back on his lap. “I always worry about you.” She murmurs before falling back to sleep. 

“Not as much as I worry about you.” He smiles as he brushes the hair from her face. She’s paler than he thought possible, even the tan she’d gained over the summer seems to be washed out now.

He keeps telling himself that this will pass, she’ll be fine soon enough but then there's a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he has no idea what he’s dealing with, what if she’s not fine? What if he’d made the wrong connection and this wasn’t the water at all and there was something else wrong with her?

If it is the water though, what kind of effects does contaminated water have? It certainly looked like it was having a bad effect of Clarke, but maybe this was just touching the surface. 

He was panicking himself into thinking the worse, it could just be a bug.

He doubts it though.

On the coffee table Clarkes phone buzzes. He ignores it, not his phone not his business. It doesn’t wake Clarke though, she doesn’t even flinch. Her phone buzzes again, and again. Whoever’s calling her isn’t giving up. 

Then it's his phone that’s buzzing in his pocket. With a frown he checks the caller ID – he’s not sure if Roan calling him right now is a good or bad thing.

“Thank god somebodies answering their phone,” Roan grumbles as soon as he picks up his phone. “Have you spoken to Clarke? I can’t get in touch with her.” 

“I’m with her, she’s not good.” That was an understatement. 

“Shit.” Roan hisses “Get her to the hospital, now.”

Bellamy sits bolt upright, a shiver going down his Spine. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but shits hit the fan, but your theory was right. You need to get her to the hospital right now.”

The phone clicks off and for a moment he can’t move. He never wanted that theory to be right. He never wanted Clarke to get hurt. 

“Come on,” he shakes Clarke's shoulder, but she doesn’t respond. “Please, Clarke get up.”

She sighs in response and blinks slowly, flinching away from the light. “I just want to sleep.” She mumbles, closing her eyes again. Her voice is weak though, he knows Roan is right, she needs to be in the hospital, especially since she can’t keep anything down. 

“We’re going to the hospital Clarke, please come on.” He’s practically begging now, he’ll carry her there if he has to. 

“What? What’s wrong?” She’s a bit more awake now, she turns her head to look at him but flinches and lays back down again. It only reiterates his need to get her there. 

“You’re sick, we need to go.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes again “It’s just a bug, it’ll pass.”

“Clarke just – ” how does he tell her without freaking her out entirely? She’ll be devastated by this, but also – the rage he knows has been bubbling to the surface for weeks now, over the lies and deception from the Wallaces will come to show. He doesn’t know how to deal with that. “Please. You can’t keep anything down, you don’t look good, I spoke to Roan, he agrees you need to be in the hospital.”

“Bellamy I’m fine – ”

“It’s not a debate.” He interjects firmly. “Come on, please.” He helps her up gently, she sways and tilts, then stands shakily and stumbles to the bathroom. He sits beside her again, but now there’s nothing left in her stomach to bring up, so she dry heaves then sits back, tears streaming down her face. He pulls her to him and vows if he ever sees the Wallaces again, he won’t restrain himself. 

“Okay.” She finally agrees, standing up with him on trembling legs, clinging to him to keep her balance. He sighs in relief that he doesn’t have to fight her on this anymore. 

He helps her to his truck and drives silently, his mind running overdrive at all the possibilities, wondering what kind of problems contaminated water could cause. 

The hospitals packed. He’s never seen anything quite like it. The reception area has a queue right back to the doors, every seat full of people who look – 

Well, exactly like Clarke. They’re all pale and drawn out, gaunt and trembling from the dehydration. Cardboard bowls sitting in their laps, this isn’t just Clarke, this is the whole of Polis. 

The receptionist is short with them, telling them to find a seat wherever they can and they’ll be given a room as soon a possible, but she doesn’t know when that will be. He can imagine they’re overflowing with patients now. There's a city full of dehydrated people with god only knows what else. 

It’s over an hour of sitting on hard plastic chairs with Clarke slumped beside him, slowly they’re bringing people through, but as quick as their seat is emptied it’s filled with someone new. He’s getting antsy now, and Clarkes getting worse. But it's not like he can insist on getting a bed when everybody else here in is the same boat. 

So he sits it out with her, his back hurts but he can only imagine it’s a drop in the ocean compared to how she feels, or anybody else here for that matter. 

The Wallaces will have hell to pay for this. 

Eventually, she’s called through, she can barely walk but he coaxes her until she can get on the bed. He sits anxiously in the corner, tapping his foot as a nurse puts an IV in her hand. 

“What do you think it is?” He asks suddenly, debating with himself if he should tell them what he knows, or at least thinks he knows. 

“I don’t know.” The nurse sighs, she’s tired and clearly overworked “Nobodies testing positive for any of the usual things that go with their symptoms.”

He clenches his jaw, then blurts “I think it’s the water system.”

The nurse pauses, then turns to look at him with a frown. “It’s what?’

“The water system.” He cant sit on the information any longer, now when people are like this, so ill and with no treatment. “I think there's something wrong with the water, its contaminated or something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It tasted funny for a while, then earlier it was brown when it came out the taps, I don’t know I just – it’s the water.”

She gives him a sceptical look and turns back to fix Clarkes IV. “Someone will be back soon to take some blood, but she needs fluids in her first, I could hardly find a vein.”

“Is that bad?” He doesn’t know much about this stuff - despite spending most of his life in and out of hospitals – but he knows that not being able to find a vein can’t be good.

The nurse gives him a tight smile. “We’ll see what the blood work says, but she just needs some fluids in her first. I don’t think she’ll wake up for a while”

He nods and when she leaves, he pulls the chair next to her and takes her hand, careful of the needle and the tube and just clings to her, not knowing what he could possibly do to make this any better. 

Seeing her lying there on a hospital bed, looking so small and frail he thinks of all the emails that were sent in his dreams. If it's true – and most of his dreams have been so far – then there were a lot of people in very high places that had to pay for this. People who he’d bet his new heart were not drinking the tap water this summer. 

He wonders how people can do that to the people they’re supposed to protect? Jake Griffin had the same thoughts. Did he die? for this – if he died for knowing that the city’s water was about to be contaminated?

Did he die in vain?

“She was right.”

The words are said out loud, but not by him. He jerks back to see Wells standing at the end of her cubicle, ashy faced holding an IV stand. 

“About what?” He won't be the one to break the news, he’ll let Roan decide how that’s done. 

Wells snorts. “Everything. My dad told me just before Jake died to drink bottled water or to get one of those – ” he waves his hands nonchalantly “Water filter things. I don’t know, I didn’t pay much attention, he goes on phases like this, health kicks and whatever so I thought it was just him doing that. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Or does it and I’m just really dehydrated?”

Bellamy huffs, its almost a laugh – almost. 

“You’ve put it together too, haven’t you?” Wells looks over him critically, like he can see through him. 

“I put something together, I don’t know if it's right or not yet.”

Wells smirks “I bet it’s right.”

Bellamy just shrugs, it's not his news to share, not yet. Roan had said shit hit the fan, he could only guess that meant he was dealing with it. 

“Is she alright?” Wells looks over Clarke in concern, he feels it too. She hasn’t even stirred since Wells got here. 

“I don’t know.” He tells Wells honestly. “She’s hardly waking up, the nurse said she couldn’t find a vein to put her IV in or take blood. She couldn’t even move earlier, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.

Wells is silent for a long moment, looking slowly between them. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“You got it backwards.” Bellamy smiles as Wells shuffles away.

The nurses try three times to take blood, each time they huff in frustration and leave empty-handed, Clarke doesn’t wake up through any of it. He wonders how long she was like this before he got there. He should have brought her in earlier. Once he saw how bad she was he should have just got her here. 

The curtain rips open, it makes him jump back in his chair in surprise. Abby stands there, pale but not from the same illness as everybody else, from something else, shock? Guilt?

_If you want to put yourself in danger doing this then that’s up to you, but I won't let you drag Clarke down with you._

“I never meant for this to happen.” She says before Bellamy can say anything, “I never meant for her to get ill, for anyone to get ill. I thought it would be get sorted, I thought – ” she cuts off, tears streaming down her face, guilt plasters her tone. “He wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“No.” Bellamy agrees “He wouldn’t. You knew, didn’t you?”

She looks to him in surprise, he’s careful to see if Clarke is waking up yet, but she's still in a deep sleep, breaths still coming slow and even. 

“I never meant for it to go this far.”

“Then how far did you mean for it to go? Because Jake figured it out months ago yet your daughters lying unconscious in a hospital bed because nobody did anything.”

It’s satisfying, watching it dawn on her that he _knows. _It’s wide-eyed horror and fear, her eyes flick from him to Clarke. How did she do it? How did she sit back knowing what would happen would affect Clarke too? Yet she was so adamant Jake shouldn’t tell Clarke, she was adamant that Jake shouldn’t go driving that night, did she know the brake lines were cut?

He pushes that thought away, it’s too horrifying – surely she’d have put up more of a fight if she knew?

Maybe.

“Does she know?” Abby’s only looking at Clarke now, pale and cracked lips, skin almost as white as the sheets she’s lying on - it’s killing him to see, is it not killing her?

“No. I figured it out when she got ill and brought her here.”

Abby nods in relief.

“I’m not keeping it from her though, I won’t say that you knew, but I’m not keeping what happened from her.”

“I appreciate it”

“I’m not doing it for you.” He snaps “I’m doing it for her. She’ll figure it out soon enough but when she wakes up there’s already a lot for her to take in, I’m not overloading her with information. You can be the one to tell her.”

Her eyes narrow at him and with one last look at Clarke she turns and leaves. Bellamy’s left in silence once again, not knowing what he’s supposed to do now. He knows too much and Clarke knows too little. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to tell her when she wakes up.

He just wants her to wake up.

Another nurse comes in and checks her over. When Bellamy asks when she’ll wake up, the nurse just shrugs and tell him when she’s ready.

He feels so separated from the world in here, like times moving differently for them. He hasn’t looked at his phone since they got here, so he has no idea how long they’ve been here. He can still hear the hospital moving in a frenzy on the other side of the cubicle, but he feels so disconnected.

Conversations spill through that sounds painfully familiar yet – also not. Nobody here knows what's happening. They don’t have the access he does. So while he’s frightened, he can’t imagine how it feels to not understand what is happening, all they know is that they and their loved ones are getting sick with no clue as to why, or what the effects of this are. 

He doesn’t know the latter either, but looking at Clarke, they’re bad. 

A nurse finally gets blood from Clarke, who opens her eyes blearily and frowns at the nurse, but turns her head and closes her eyes before either of them can say anything. Worry blooms in his chest once more but there's nothing he can do but sit and cling to her hand.

A doctor finally comes in, flanked by the nurse who set Clarkes IV up earlier, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What is it?” Bellamy frowns as the nurse steps up to fit a new IV in the hand Bellamy’s holding. He’s pushed back and etched with worry. 

He doesn’t really understand what the doctors telling him, though. It’s jargon and complicated, he feels like its on purpose so he doesn’t know what's really going on. All he can gather is Clarkes got a bacterial infection that needs Antibiotics. 

The doctor leaves and he’s left with the nurse who was still appraising him. 

“How did you know?” She asks when Clarkes IV is set up. 

Bellamy shrugs half-heartedly “As I said, I put it together.” 

She doesn’t believe him, she doesn’t have to though. There's so much more to the story that he can’t tell, even more that he doesn’t understand. 

Roan finally pulls back the curtain, looking bone-tired and scrapes a hand over his face. “What a day.” He mutters, then jerks his head towards Clarke “Is she alright?”

“The doctor seems to think she will be. She’s got a bacterial infection they’re treating. She’s not really woken up though.”

Roan nods, he seems to be reluctant to carry on the conversation, but Bellamy needs to know. “What’s happened?”

With a wince, Roan says “Everything Jake did was fine, there were no mistakes or anything, but you were right about the emails, he went to inspect the work and found several mistakes, I’m not just talking about one or two little ones either, I mean whoever had done the work made a mess – either didn’t understand the plans or didn’t care. He emails Dante Wallace to tell him but he didn’t want to know. Jake did his research and found that the mistakes that were made could cause fatalities, not this soon but – ” Roan shrugs “I’m not really an expert on this, but I think the hot weather pushed everything forward, people were drinking more, using their taps more and it pulled in more bad water – at least that’s my theory. I’ve told the necessary people but – ”

“But I bet they already knew.” Bellamy interjects, Roan raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I don’t know how you know, but somehow you got it right.”

“He told everybody who needed to know months ago and they ignored it.” Bellamy snaps.

“That he did, I saw the emails myself. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do but I’ve put a copy of them on a drive, I wanted a back up in case the emails get hacked. There's a good chance of it.”

“You think they’d try and get rid of the evidence.”

Roan stares at him evenly “Yes. There was without a doubt more information on that computer, but it was deleted before Clarke got into it. There's only one other person who I think could have gotten into it.”

Abby. 

“What are you saying?” Bellamy demanded, if he thinks Abby is hiding more than she's letting on too…

He doesn’t think about it. If he thinks about it he might want to tell Clarke, and this will devastate her. 

“I’m not saying anything. Just that there's been evidence deleted and there's one person who could have done it, take it as you will.”

He won't give him anymore, Roans stubborn and will only tell as much as he wants to, but he's also a damn good lawyer, so he’ll say as much as he needs to.

“When she wakes up, give me a call please? I’ll come and go through everything with her.”

Bellamy nods and Roan ducks out. All he can think now is poor Clarke, she’ll be distraught, and angry – so angry he doesn’t know how he’ll deal with it. 

It’s hours of sitting and thinking when Clarke finally wake up, blinking blearily at him. Her eyes are bloodshot, red and tired but they’re alert this time. 

“What happened?” She croaks, trying to sit up but Bellamy puts a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. She looks around then in a panic, taking in the drips and the hospital gown. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

“It’s okay.” He soothes, hand moving from her shoulder to brush her hair back. “You’re going to be alright. The doctor said you had a bacterial infection and you were severely dehydrated. They’ve put you on a drip and antibiotics.”

She looks away from him and up to the ceiling, a tear falling down her cheek. He reaches up to brush it away. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“You were asleep for most of it.” He assures her, it must be scary, waking up in the hospital with no idea of why she was there. “I was so scared, Clarke.” He confesses quietly. “You wouldn’t wake up for hours, you didn’t even flinch when they were putting the drip. I was so worried.”

“I’m here, I’m alright. I just don’t get it, how did I get it?”

God, how does he tell her? On the one hand it’s the one thing she’s been fighting for, the truth about what happened to Jake, what lead to his death, but then – deep down he knows she doesn’t _want _to know, she doesn’t want more grief in her life. There never should have been this much grief to start with. 

“Roan wanted to be the one to explain.”

She freezes, staring hard at him. “What about Roan? No, I want you to tell me.”

“Clarke – ”

“Please. I’m scared now, what's happening?” 

He can’t leave it like that. He shouldn’t have brought Roan's name up. He has to tell her. “The water is Polis was contaminated.”

“No.” She shakes her head in disbelief “No it couldn’t be, my dad – ”

“The system your dad designed was perfect.” He cuts her off before she can spiral. “But the work that was done was wrong. I don’t know the specifics but I know the work wasn’t done right. We found some emails on your dads computer, he was trying to warn people, Roan knows more. I’m just - I’m so sorry Clarke.”

“Is that why…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, she doesn’t need to; he knows what she’s asking. There are no words in the world that can make this alright, so all he can do is nod. 

“No.” She shakes her head again as her world crashes around her. He stands and wraps his arms around her carefully, trying not to disrupt the tubes that surround her. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers again into her hair, she shakes in his arms and there's nothing he can do to make her feel better. 

They stay like that for what seems like an age, but he’ll stay there forever if it brings her comfort. When she calms down, red-eyed and pale she asks “What now?”

“I don’t know, we’ll let the lawyers deal with that, but the Wallaces are going down Clarke.”

“I just wish I’d been able to stop them.”

“They were never going to be stopped.” He admits, after the fight they’d put up he knew they were hiding something big, he hates that Clarke got hurt in it, he hates that they caused so much pain, not just to her - but to everyone. The entire city has been affected by this, because of their ignorance and greed.

When she’s calmed he sits next to her again and holds her hand, but it’s unresponsive as she gets lost in her head, staring at the same spot on the bed blankly. He doesn’t try and stop her, there’s not a lot he can say to reassure her, he needs to let her process this in her own time.

She barely acknowledges the doctor when he comes back to tell her that she’ll be staying in for observations and to let the antibiotics run for a while longer before they’ll let her go. She just nods absently, Bellamy assures them that they understand and they seem satisfied enough with that, but then with an entire hospital to get around, telling patients the same thing over and over they no longer need too much clarification, they want this is to be over as much as they to.

Almost as much as they want it to be over. Nobody can want it to be over as much as they do. This will pass for the hospital staff and patients, they’ll get treatment and go home. They’ll be paranoid about drinking water for the rest of their lives, but they won’t look over their shoulders like he and Clarke will, they won’t wait for the next attack. 

They won’t sit waiting for a phone call to say someones took it too far. That’s what he’ll wait for now. He’ll obsessively think about what the Wallaces are planning or if Clarke decides to confront them.

They’ll never wait for the fatal mistake. 

Clarkes still lost in her head when the curtain rips open. Her head snaps up, alert for the first time.

“Mom?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Abby sighs, striding over to the bed. Gone is the frenzied, panicked woman who was here earlier, she’s calm now, motherly as she strokes Clarke's hair back. “How do you feel?”

“Like crap.” Clarke gives a watery half-laugh, but it dies off as quickly as it comes. “The water system, Dad knew. He was trying to warn them, he was trying to – ”

“Clarke stop, just let the Lawyers deal with it, okay?” It’s said softly, but Bellamy can hear the warning behind it, stop getting involved, it’s only going to end in disaster. 

She’s not apologising now, she’s careful of her words around Clarke, careful not to show that she knows more than she’s letting on. She doesn’t once look at him, though. If she does he might just give it away. He couldn’t do that to Clarke though, not now. It’s not his information to give out.

“No.” Clarke insists “He knew, and people need to know that his warnings were ignored – ”

“I said stop.” Abby says sharply, making Clarke blinks in surprise. She softens, but he can see through the act, Clarke can too, he thinks. “You’re ill and upset and you’ve been through a lot. Just put it out of your mind and focus on getting better, alright?”

Clarke nods reluctantly, more of an attempt to appease her than to agree with her. 

“Good.” Abby kisses her forehead “Get some rest, alright?”

“I will.” Clarke assures her. “Oh, wait - this infection, it's not contagious or anything, is it?”

Abby looks back and forth between them then, a small, genuine smile comes over her face. “No, it came from ingesting the contaminated water.”

Clarke sighs in relief and nods her thanks, Abby leaves and he’s left with just the two of them. He thinks she’s going to back into her head, but instead, he shuffles over on her bed and pats the space next to her. 

“What?” He asks with a frown. Surely he can’t get into bed with her. 

“Come here.”

“I shouldn’t.” He sighs, there's wires and tubes to contend with, and the beds hardly big enough for her, let alone the two of them. 

“Please?” She whispers, and after everything that’s happened, who is he to deny her anything? So manoeuvres around her tubes and sits on the edge o the next to her, arm slipping around her waist and pulling her close. She rests her head on his shoulder and angles herself towards him, it’s a tight squeeze but it's nice having her this close.

For a long while neither of them say anything, they just sit in peace, letting the madness of the world outside of her cubicle slip away just for now, until she’s discharged and they’re thrown to the wolves. The beds hard and uncomfortable, it’s sat up at a weird angle so Clarke’s probably going to have backache from lying on it for so long.

“How did you know about the emails?” She asks quietly, weakly. 

“I never said I did. I said we found them”

She shakes her head against his shoulder. “No.” She defies. “You knew. Like you knew where to find the files, and about the crash, you knew you couldn’t brake in the car and crashed.”

He takes a moment to consider whether or not she wants the truth, all the strangeness and the unexplainable questions that come with it. But still, she deserves it, she said once that she didn’t want to know and he respected that, so he’ll respect that she wants to know now.

“I saw them.” He admits. “In a dream. The same way I saw the blueprints.”

She doesn’t respond, she doesn’t have to. It sounds as crazy out loud as it does in his head. 

“I’m glad it was you.” She finally tells him. What she means he isn’t quite sure, but he’ll accept it without question. He’s glad it was her too, he’s glad whatever strange tricks the universe played brought him to her.

When she’s finally discharged after more blood is taken and bottles of pills are given with strict instructions to rest, they finally see the outside world again. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been cooped up in that cubicle, but it feels likes a lifetime. Now they’ve come out to heavy clouds and suffocating heat.

There’s a storm coming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellarkefic-for-BLM is now t100fic-for-BLM! I am still taking prompts (@excuseyouclarke on tumblr), and theres a new donation celebration, check it out on their tumblr. Information about the initiative can be found on their carrd - https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/


	11. Part 11

After the longest and hottest summer on record, and the longest drought in history the weather finally breaks.

So does Clarke.

The rain was threatened all day. She’s been home for two days now, staying at his house as she refuses to go back to her apartment. The first day back she just slept, finally just resting and he thought she would be as fine as she could be, that she was taking Abby’s advice and letting the lawyers deal with it.

But he should have known better. He should have known that she wouldn’t leave it alone, not now when she was so close to exposing the Wallaces.

Roan’s warned her not to do anything, there's a cease and desist ad she has to respect that, she has to understand that right now, it’s against the law for her to talk about the case, and that it was for the best that she distances herself from it for the time being.

It was all said from a script though, Roan knew as well as he did that she wouldn’t distance herself from it, not when she was so close to getting what she’d been fighting for.

Cage Wallace is on the TV, solemnly addressing the camera and profusely apologising for what had happened, but it was unprecedented, they didn’t see it coming.

It raises a bitter laugh from Clarke and a twist of anger from him. There’s so much proof to say that he’s lying, if it got out that they knew from before the system was in place there would be hell to pay. But Roan had told them to bide their time, he knew what he was doing.

Bellamy trusted him, but Clarke was impatient. He understood it, she had waited so long for this moment and it was tainted by orders and threats. It still worried him what she might do though.

Cage announces that there’s going to be a payout for the anybody who fell ill to the polluted water, but Clarke scoffs.

“It’s hush money.” She spits, her anger bubbling over the surface. “They think a payout will appease people but it won’t work. They want answers, not money.”

All Bellamy wants to do is reach through the television screen and wipe the false sympathetic look off Cage’s face, he’d switch it off if they didn’t need to hear of any new developments.

The people of Polis were angry, even he knows a payout won’t work in a city like that. They had enough money to make a noise, they wouldn’t be silenced. Clarke certainly wouldn’t. He keeps a check with the online news and keeps the TV on in the background. After a couple of hours, he suggests they switch it off and try and distract themselves, even if there are new developments there's nothing they can do about it.

But Clarke says no, she needs to know what's happening. The longer they watch, the more uncomfortable he gets. He knows something is coming, and its something bad. He feels it deep inside, like the pressure building from the storm somethings going to give soon.

The weather outside darkens and so does the mood. Clarke can’t keep still, her knee bounces or she’s wringing her hands, then she’s standing and pacing or staring at the ominous clouds that seem to be getting closer to them.

When lightning strikes, so does she.

With the rumble of thunder, she opens her laptop and types furiously. She angles herself away from him so he can’t see what she’s doing but he’s got a good guess.

“Clarke.” He warns “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not.” She snaps, not looking up from her laptop. He sits back to see her pulling up the copies of the emails Jake had sent her. With the tap of a button, they’re gone and dread overcomes him.

“What did you do? You can’t release those.”

The stare she fixes him is cold as steel, foreign to her eyes that are usually so warm and loving. “I didn’t. They were sent from an anonymous account. Nobody will ever know it was me.”

There it is. The feeling of dread. They may not know it’s her who sent it, but she’s the target. She’s the one who has been saying the Wallace’s have something to hide and now they’re exposed. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it was her who sent it.

“Oh, Clarke.” He deflates. “What have you done?”

The news takes barely an hour to break.

It’s not just the Wallace’s that come under fire, though they do take most of the heat. But senators, councillors, everybody on Jake Griffin’s list has their picture plastered on the television and questions to answer.

What good answers can they give though? What possible explanation could they have for ignoring something that would endanger an entire city?

What do the Wallaces have on these people?

Clarke’s phone is buzzing non-stop, a tirade of private numbers, one after the other, barely taking a break until he switches it off. She wasn’t going to answer it or talk to the countless journalists who wanted her story first.

Nobody was interested in her story before – not like this. They were interested in the girl who would sue half the city to make herself feel better about her father's death, but not for one minute did they believe that she could be telling the truth about what the Wallaces had done – despite the evidence she had that the brake lines had been cut it was put down to accidental damage.

Now they were using Clarke's story as gospel, the same story they’d mocked months before.

His phones buzzing in his pocket now, he hopes they haven’t found his number from somewhere, but it’s a thread of angry messages from Roan, demanding to what the hell Clarke’s done and why she isn’t answering her phone.

When he tells her she looks at him dead and tells him she doesn’t care if he tells Roan, it’s done now and there’s nothing either of them can do to change it.

He expected anger, he expected outbursts and screaming and shouting. He didn’t expect the apathy, he didn’t expect her to shut down like she has. It’s so much worse.

Journalists are camped outside her apartment building, circling like vultures. He switches off the television then, he’s seen enough and Clarke doesn’t need to see anymore.

“Hey,” he murmurs, turning to her “Look at me.”

She looks over to him, still pale and drawn out, her eyes bloodshot and tired. She’s still not recovered from the infection and dehydration, this isn’t helping her at all. She’d only get worse if she didn’t relax. It was easier said than done though. He wouldn’t be able to relax in her situation either, but he feels helpless now, stuck watching everything unfold from the outside and not even knowing how to comfort her.

“You did it. You did what your dad was trying to do. You exposed the Wallaces, the truths out there they’ll go down for what they’ve done.”

For a moment he doesn’t think she’s registered what was said, but she softens and reaches out to touch his face. He thinks she might be alright, there’s a fleeting moment where he thinks that she’s coping better than he thought. But something passes, her expressions darkens then sets in determination and dread once again consumes him.

“I love you.” Her voice cracks, and though he thought he longed to hear it, it does nothing to settle the dread sitting deep within him. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

She stands with determination and Bellamy follows but he knows in his heart that there’s nothing he can do to stop whatever it is she’s about to do. He’ll try though.

“Clarke please,” he pleads, hoping that he can get her to stay with him. “Please, don’t go out in this storm, you can’t drive in this.”

She’s not listening to him, she’s blocked him out entirely, grabbing her car keys from the table.

“Clarke just stop. Whatever it is can wait until after this storms passed.” He blocks the door in a last desperate attempt to stop her, but he can’t lock her in here, with the steely gaze her know’s she’ll do whatever to get out.

She stands in front of him on his tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” She promises again, then slips around him and out into the storm.

The brief moment the door was open, rain pounds on the floor and thunder rumbles. When it slams shut, he’s left with the pounding of his heart and apprehension overcoming him.

He tries his best not to think about where she could have possibly gone, he tries to distract himself but its useless, how could he possibly think of anything but her when she could be in trouble. He doubts he could see his hand in front of his face in that weather, how could she drive safely in it?

If he had any idea where he was he’d go after her, but he couldn’t drive blindly in the rain. He hopes she’s gone to Roan, he could maybe talk some sense into her, but he somehow doubts that.

Cage Wallace is back on the television when he switches it on, flanked by Dante who seems to be staring right into his soul through the screen, like he’s saying _I know what you did; and you’ll pay for it._ They’re trying to deny any knowledge, trying to dig themselves out of the hole they’ve made for themselves. It’s useless. Nobody believes that the emails were faked, not when there are enough people on there who aren’t denying it.

How could they sleep at night knowing what would happen? How could they live with themselves knowing how much harm they’d caused?

There were six fatalities from it, and that was only the beginning. Who knows what the long term effects were. It only adds to the anxiety of it all, the not knowing. He knows it could have been so much worse, but it did little to soothe him after thinking about how sick Clarke was and how scared he was. The same was to be said for the whole of Polis though, there was hell to pay.

Time went on and no matter how much he called Clarke's phone she wasn’t answering. Eventually, it started going to voicemail and his heart turned heavy. Something was wrong – beyond her not wanting to speak to him. It was so much more than that, he could feel it.

He called Roan, but he hadn’t heard off her either, and he couldn’t get through to her phone. So Bellamy was left to pace and constantly check out the window for headlights coming onto the drive. But they never came, only flashes of lightning that illuminated the downpour that seemed to be getting heavier by the minute.

When the grandfather clock strikes 11, he grabs his car keys. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he has to do something. He gets in his truck and switches on the ignition, no destination in mind he just follows where his heart is telling him to go.

He ends up driving for well over an hour, he skirts around Polis and closer to a beach he’s never been to. It’s slow driving, the rain and lightning making it hazardous but still, he continues. When he parks up he’s outside a beach house, it’s achingly familiar, not just from the paintings in Clarkes Gallery, but in a way the car crash he’s never experienced was. It’s filled with happy memories of children’s laughter and barbecues on the porch, lazy mornings listening to the waves lap on the beach and paddling in the sea.

Those happy memories are distant though, and not his own. Now Clarke car sits crumpled against the wall outside, the front smashed in from the impact and glass lays scattered around it.

This. This was the dread that was filling him, swirling ominously in his stomach.

Clarke’s not in the car though, she could be in the beach house, or one of the surrounding houses sheltering from the storm but – her sweater and shoes are lay in a neat pile on the wall, a smear of blood on the sweater, washing out with the rain.

He knows, he can feel that she’s not in the houses, she wouldn’t have taken her shoes or sweater off to do that. With a flash of lightening he looks up and sees her, knee-deep in the ocean and getting deeper.

In an all-consuming panic, he kicks off his shoes and runs, faster than he thinks he ever has before. The sea waters icy cold and waves crash relentless against his legs as they try to knock him back.

A stormy sea won’t hold him back though. He screams Clarke's name louder than he thought possible, but it’s swept away with the wind and thrown into nothingness. Clarkes moving slower than he is, but somehow she still manages to get further away from him. Over and over he calls for her and each time it goes unnoticed.

Until finally he reaches her, water well above her knees now and he doesn’t think about how far she would have gone. His arms wrap around her from behind, one around her torso the other around her chest. She gasps in shock but doesn’t fight him, just lets herself be pulled against him and held tight. She sobs in his arms and his heart shatters.

“I’ve got you.” He assures her with a murmur in her ear, he doesn’t know if she hears him, but she slumps against him in, in relief or surrender he doesn’t know. There’s a gash on her head that leaves trails of blood down her face, smeared away by the rain in streaks.

“She knew.” Clarke sobs in his arms “She knew and she didn’t do anything. She let him go.”

Abby. Clarke must have gone to confront her.

Once again he is left with no words of comfort, nothing he can say will make this alright so he holds onto her and prays they make it through the storm.

He turns her slowly so she’s facing him and wipes away the blood from the gash. He doesn’t think it’s as bad as it looks, the rain stops it from clotting though so he won’t know until he gets her dry. Which she so desperately needs right now.

“We’ll go home, and go to sleep and in the morning we’ll talk it all through. But for now just come with me, please?”

She nods and he winds an arm around her waist, keeping her close as they wade through the stormy sea together. There's less of a fight now, the waves crashing push them on rather than hinder them. In the truck, he puts the blowers on but it does nothing more than stopping the windows from steaming up. They’re both soaked to the bone and weary, Clarke doesn’t say a word on the drive home, just stares blankly out the window until they pull up in the driveway. Even then she moves with no feeling, gets out the truck and walks up the stairs to the bathroom like a zombie. There’s no thought to what she’s doing, robotic and stoic it scares him as he towels off her hair and helps her into dry clothes.

The gash on her head isn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be now it’s dry, so he puts a bandaid over it and tells himself they’ll reevaluate in the morning – with clear minds and a good sleep behind them.

Clarke falls into a dead sleep wrapped around him, and as much as he wants to sleep too, he can’t stop watching her and wondering what was going on in her head? What happened that made her wade into the ocean while a storm blew wild?

They were questions that would be answered in the morning, but until then, he took solace in the fact she was safe here in his arms.

In the early afternoon, when the sun had passed it’s highest point and Bellamy still hadn’t slept, or barely even moved when Clarke began to stir. She blinks blearily and pushes the heel of her hands into her eyes.

“Oh god, my head kills.” Her voice is throaty and weak, like she’s been shouting for hours. Maybe she had. He passes her a bottle of water and she sits shakily, giving him a sheepish glance. “How long was I asleep?”

“A good twelve hours. How do you feel?”

“Like I crashed my car into a wall.”

He doesn’t expect that answer, so he can’t disguise the shock or the fear on his face. There’s a panic that’s bubbling too, one he fears he can’t contain.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise.” She sighs, taking a sip of water. “My brakes wouldn’t work, I pulled the handbrake but with the rain the car just lost control. When I realised where I was I just, I kept walking like we did when I was a kid, to see how deep I could get in the water.”

“Are you okay?”

The looks she gives him is impossibly sad, it breaks his heart all over again. “My car isn’t the only thing that lost control last night. I just – I lost everything over some pipes. It was something that could have been easily fixed but it took away my entire world. I went to confront Dante about it, so I hid out at the press conference and Cage found me. I thought I could face anything he told me but – ”

She cuts off with a sniffle and swipes a tear away. For all the times she’s been brave, for all the times she’s put on a hard front she’s faced pain Bellamy can’t even begin to imagine. Now it’s all crashing down on her and they’re left with fragmented pieces, months of being ignored and mocked by everybody who was supposed to listen to her has finally taken its toll on her.

It was bound to happen, so he takes Roan’s advice to heart and just holds her. He doesn’t try and get involved, he doesn’t push her, he’s just there when she needs him – and right now she needs someone more than ever.

“You don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to.” He soothes, but she continues anyway.

“He said he doesn’t know why I spent so much energy going after them when my own mother was just as guilty.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, he’d thought – suspected since the first dreams and when he saw her in the hospital, but hearing it from Clarke when she sounded so broken, it was too much.

“I didn’t believe him, but there was – I don’t even know, I just went and confronted her, I didn’t even really know what I was saying but she confessed anyway, she knew about the water system, she knew about the Wallaces ignoring it, and when he threatened to go public, she knew they cut his brakes.”

There's no way to explain the horror that comes over him, he suspected she knew about the water system, maybe in the back of his mind, somewhere in a dream she might have tried to stop Jake going out that night in the storm, but he never would have thought it was because she knew he would possibly lose his life.

“When we were in the hospital, after I found him one of the doctors said he thought with time he could make a full recovery, but he’d be in a coma for a while and he’d have to stay on life support while his brain healed and they could see what kind of damage they were working with. Then another Doctor said the opposite, they said there was no chance of recovery and we should just switch off the life support because it was the kindest thing to do. I begged my mom not to switch it off, to just give him time but she wouldn’t listen and she killed him, as much as Cage did by cutting his brakes she made sure he wouldn’t tell anybody what happened.”

He pulls her closer and she turns into him, head buried in the crook of his neck as she sobs.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, soothingly as he can while stroking her hair. “Clarke I’m so sorry.”

“She deleted everything off his laptop that she could find, she knew I wasn’t crazy, she knew the sear campaign against me was to cover the Wallace and she did nothing. I don’t understand why she’s do this.” Her voice quivers and shakes into nothing, he’s not sure how you come back from a betrayal like this.

So he just holds her until the tears dry out and sobs die down and she’s left with just exhaustion. Not just from last night, months worth of fighting and betrayal, it was always bound to catch up on her.

Just like the truth was always bound to come out. Now it is, and they can fight for justice without Clarke being told she’s crazy, or just a grieving daughter out for revenge to make herself feel better.

That was never what this was about.

Now everybody can see that. It’s a shame it had to be taken so far.

“The truths out.” He assures her. She moves back to look at him, eyes red-rimmed and a bruise forming above her eyebrow underneath the bandaid he’s stuck over the cut in a panic. She probably needed to go to the emergency room, but with the state she was in it probably would have made her worse. “We’ll get justice, we’ll expose them for everything, together. Whatever happens, I’m here for you.”

She gives him a half-smile and reaches out to cup his cheek, her thumb grazing over his cheek. “If none of this had happened, I never would have met you.” Her face contorts in conflicting emotions, relief and a pang of deep sadness, he understands it.

“I never would have met you either, and you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

A stray tear runs down her, he wipes it away and she gives him a watery smile.

“Don’t think about it.” He whispers. “We can’t change what’s already happened.”

She nods, and he thinks they just might be alright.

*

They don’t seem to stop after that.

He still goes to work, he still plans his lesson and marks tests and essays. Clarke stops going to the gallery though.

All of her energy goes into the upcoming court battle. All of the evidence she was mocked and disputed for is now crucial and sacred. It’s not just the Wallaces that are being prosecuted, it’s everybody who knew and refused to do anything about it. It’s her best friends father and people who were supposed to be friends of her family. People who watched her grow up watched her suffer and not say anything, all for the fear of two people who held a city in an iron grip.

Sometimes it’s easy for her to just crawl into bed in the early hours of the morning and curl around him, sometimes he has to close her laptop and make her sleep.

Sometimes the case overtakes their life to a point he doesn’t know who she is without it anymore.

When that happens, she leans into him and says “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

It’s not entirely true, though. He didn’t sign up for anything, he only wants to be with her. He knows this won’t last forever, so he just holds her when it gets too much. She holds him too, tightly like she’s scared he’ll leave her if she doesn’t cling onto him.

At some point, she moves into his house. It’s without ceremony or fanfare, just a quiet Sunday when they both need a break. They collect her belongings she wants to keep in a rented U Haul and he convinces her to bring the sofa back to his.

For the first time, they laugh so much their stomachs ache and their cheeks hurt. They bring back a bottle of expensive champagne and he has his first, and possibly last glass. They dance in the kitchen to the radio in the early hours when her things are finally put away and it feels more like a home than a place to rest his head. Although it’s always been home, it was always his place to stay since Octavia left but it was lonely, and he never expected a long life, so having her here – even if the times were trying it made him happier than he thought he could be.

As the court date got closer, there was a pile of blank canvases in the spare room he’d bought but she hadn’t touched, so he got some interior design magazines and dumped them unceremoniously on the coffee table while she’s typing furiously on her laptop.

“What’s that?” She asked, nodding to the splayed out pile.

“Magazines.”

She smirks. “I can see that, what are they _for?”_

“We’re redecorating.” He tells her bluntly. He won’t let this case take over her life more than it already has. He can see her getting more and more anxious as the days go by so he makes the decision that if she isn’t going to paint, they can decorate to take her mind off it a bit. “We got halfway through the kitchen, there’s five more rooms left, plus the yards. God knows how long this case is going to go on for and I can’t sit around and watch it consume you.”

Her face softens and she puts her laptop to the side, stands and wraps her arms around his neck. He sighs in relief and hugs her back.

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs. “This isn’t how we planned our first few weeks living together.”

“It’s okay.” Bellamy assures her “I’m jut worried about you. I know this case will pass but even so, you live and breathe it, it’s not healthy.”

She nods and pulls back, kissing his cheek “How about we go out for lunch and then start looking at what we want to do with the house.”

It’s a relief, that she’s agreeing to do something other than continuously look through old evidence and picking it apart, driving Roan insane.

Things improve, they find a balance between work and the case and a distraction from the case. One day, he comes home from work to a shiny new car parked on the driveway. There’s only Clarke in the house though which means –

“You bought a new car?” He smiles, she hadn’t shown interest since her other one was totalled. An investigation had found the brake lines had been tampered with, and though there’s not enough evidence to say who did it, they knew. Whether it was a threat, a warning or an attempt on her life they would probably never find out, but it didn’t work. If anything it made her more determined for justice.

“I thought it was about time, with going back and forth between here and Polis I can’t keep stealing your truck when I’m in court everyday and you’re in work, speaking of.” She bounces excitedly on the sofa and hands him a thick envelope, glossy and professional.

“What is it?” He turns it over in his hands and unhooks the fold at the back.

“Jut read it.” She grins, sitting forward in anticipation. He does read it, three times over and it still doesn’t quite sink in.

“It’s – Clarke I don’t understand, how did you do this?”

“I pulled some strings, the curator of a museum not far from here is looking for a historical project manager, he commissions a few pieces from the Gallery and I told him you were looking to do your masters and he’s willing to support you through it.”

He’s speechless, for the first time in a long time – probably since she paid off his transplant. Her face falls in disappointment though.

“You don’t have to take it, I mean – you can apply for your masters and still work at the school but, I don’t know you just don’t seem to love it, there’s no spark there when you talk about it. I don’t know if it’s because of me and the case but I remembered you saying you wanted to work in a museum. Tell me if I got wrong though.”

“You’re amazing.” He tells her honestly. “Completely amazing. I hadn’t even thought of doing my masters with everything going on. I didn’t want to say anything about my job because I thought – ”

“You were thinking of me too much.” She finishes for him. “You need to think about you too. If you want it, it’s there for you. I promise it’s not going anywhere all you need to apply. You’ve been amazing with all of this and it’s been more challenging than I thought, so you needed something for you for a change.”

He’s touched, she’s got so much going on, he’s barely had time to think about himself.

There’s not much time to think about it though, the case starts a week later, and it’s more difficult than he thought, getting text updates while he’s at work and Clarke coming back stoic when it’s not gone well. She goes into herself, curls up on the armchair and stares blankly at the wall.

The days that do go well aren’t any better, but he can bring her around, convince her to eat and come to bed, get her to look at wallpaper samples to take her mind off it.

Until a week before the trial was due to end, there was not enough evidence to say that they tampered with Clarke’s or Jake’s cars, despite their best efforts, the verdict was going to be not guilty.

Until an anonymous source came forward with CCTV from outside of Jake Griffin’s office. Cage was cocky, he hadn’t even disguised himself the night he tampered with the breaks. The original report Clarke had got was dragged back up and it was more fighting to convince the Jury they had done it.

The Wallaces’ lawyers tore Clarke apart on the stand, but she was strong, and had nothing to hide so she sat up straight and told them the cold hard facts.

The day of the verdict he takes the day off work, and clings to her hand. Roan’s a damn good lawyer, but this turned into a bigger case than either of them thought it ever would be. It’s not just Roan alone though, there’s a team fighting on behalf of the city.

The Wallaces lawyers are good too, though. They tear them apart and pick apart every bit of evidence brought their way.

They’re found guilty of hiding the failures in the water system, despite the pre warnings they had from Jake Griffin. It’s a relief, when they get their sentencing from that, but then, the world crashes down again.

Cages lawyers get him a conspiracy to charge, not an actual murder sentence. It’s something, but it’s not what Clarke wanted.

When she crumples next to him, he can feel every bit of fight she had left in her withdraw.

The doctor who switched off Jake’s life support is found guilty of malpractice, but nothing else.

But it’s over. They don’t speak on the way home, Clarke walks upstairs and collapses on the bed, laying on her side and staring blankly.

He’s scared he’s lost her.

He lays next to her and holds her, still in their best clothes but it doesn’t matter. All that mattes is they’re there, together. The case is over, it didn’t all go their way, but they got justice. Not as much as Clarke deserved, but with the cover ups and slander against Clarke, he was silently doubtful they would go down for murder.

Eventually, when the sun has set and stars shine outside the open window, she turns over in his arms and he strokes her face.

“If I never met you, I don’t even think we would have got the verdict we got today.”

He frowns in confusion, so she continues “Every bit of evidence, everything that was hidden or the places we hadn’t thought to look you found it. I don’t know how, or why but you did. If I never took a chance on you I’d be - I don’t even know.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it, the strings pulling him to her. He could have given up after she didn’t call him back after that first date, he could have given up so many times, and so could she. But they didn’t. By some twist of fate they were here, together.

“I love you.” She whispers, voice thick with tears, but there’s a smile there too.

They’ll be alright. They’ll make it through the storm and she’ll heal from this. It would be long, and a hard process but they’ll do it.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the last chapter done! There’s an epilogue left that will be updates in the next week sometime!
> 
> But until then, I am once again shouting about t100fic-for-BLM! I am still taking prompts (@excuseyouclarke on tumblr), and theres a new donation celebration, check it out on their tumblr. Information about the initiative can be found on their carrd - https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, your comments and Kudos made my day!


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know how upset and heartbroken we all are after last nights episode (It was this morning for me, still very raw!) but have a soft epilogue, and some happy closure <3

_Two years later._

Bellamy fixes the picture on the wall, tilted slightly to the right but now it was straight. 

Until Clarke got home and moved it a quarter of an inch. She says it’s an artists eye, he kisses her cheek and tells her she’s a perfectionist.

But it’s done. 

The thought is so much more than house renovations. It’s been a time of healing, of talking and crying and working on their relationship. 

They’ve both had careers changes, Bellamy starting at the Museum and doing his Masters, Clarke and Luna expanding the Gallery into a business, they took a graphic design course and made something solid. They still opened the Gallery for what it was, and still had exhibitions but they’d flourished as a graphic design business too.

He was so, unbelievably proud of them. 

Clarke had thrown herself into it, knowing if she didn’t have a distraction she’d lose herself into a Great Depression again, and he couldn’t bear to see it, not after all the times she’d lie in bed without making a sound, scared to death that he was losing her. Sometimes he was worried she was doing too much, painting for the Gallery, working on her course and coming home and redecorating the house, but he’d made sure she took breaks.

Now the house was finally finished, maybe they could settle down now, relax and take more time for them. 

A car door slams outside and he looks out the window. Gus bounces excitedly outside of Clarke’s car as she gets out. He runs towards the steps, Clarke runs up behind him and grabs playfully at his waist. He squeals excitedly and bangs on the door.

“Hold on.” Clarke laughs, fishing her keys out her bags.

Gus runs in and wraps his arms around his legs, grinning brightly up at him. “Is she here yet?”

“No, sorry buddy. Not yet. Soon though I’m sure.” He tries to be as sympathetic as possible, Gus doesn’t understand that these things take time, all he knows is he’d been having a baby sister for six months, and now they’ve told him she’s coming, he doesn’t understand that doesn’t mean _right now._

He’s not having the conversations about how babies are born though, that’s Octavia’s job. Gus frowns up at him in a disappointment. 

“Still no news?” Clarke asks, stroking Gus’s hair back.

“Nope, Lincoln said it’s slow going.”

Clarke winces “Poor Octavia.” 

Gus screws his face up, Bellamy can see the questions neither of them wants to answer coming. 

“How about a pizza party?” Clarke asks excitedly, and Gus lights up.

“Yeah! Can I pick the toppings?”

“Am I going to regret saying yes to that?” Clarke grimaces, Gus shakes his head, but they all know she will.

“Please can I get a drink of water?” Gus asks, ever polite.

“Get a bottle out the refrigerator.” Clarke instructs. 

“I can get it out the tap.” Gus rolls his eyes at her.

“Just get a bottle.” Bellamy tells him, knowing she won’t give in on it. 

“Fine.” Gus mutters and shuffles to the kitchen. 

Clarke looks at the picture above the fireplace, appraising it with her head cocked then steps forward and straightens it slightly. Bellamy smiles to himself, but now it’s perfect. She steps back and he wraps his arms around her waist, looking around at their home now it was finally finished. The house was filled with her art and happy memories. It was a huge project, they knew it would be. It wasn’t always an easy job, it wasn’t always fun but they did it together, and they made a home for themselves in the midst of a crazy time. 

Now, the stormy seas have settled.

Everything feels calm and happy. They’re happy.

“Did the park wear off some of his energy?” Bellamy murmurs, Clarke just sighs.

“I think it gave him more energy. I swear I could get so much done if I had even half his energy.”

Bellamy snorts in agreement. He thought as Gus got older he’d calm down some, but that wasn’t the case. He never really slowed down but still, he was a good kid, kind and sweet – doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He can only hope that someday when he has children they turn out like him. 

Clarke looks around and sighs “It’s finally finished. What do we do now?”

“Finally relax.” He kisses her shoulder as Gus shouts in the garden. Although, relaxing was never really in their nature, he’s sure they’ll find something else to work on, another project to take over their lives.

He’s got an idea, but he’ll wait until later to broach _that_ subject. 

When the sun begins to set, Clarke scrunches her nose up at Gus’s eccentric topping decisions but then, she did promise he could have whatever he liked on it.

He’s sure they put they decide of Hercules just to annoy him, if Clarke's smirk was anything to go by.

“No complaining it’s not accurate.” She warns as she sits back, Gus sat between them on the Sofa they took from Clarke’s apartment when she moved in here.

“But it’s not.” He mutters, Clarke might snort under her breath, he’s not sure though. 

As much as Gus insists he’s bigger now, he doesn’t want to cuddle up on the sofa, as the night goes on and the Pizza’s been eaten, he gets closer and closer to Clarke until she puts an arm around him and he gives in completely, leaning into her until his eyes shut and she has to hold him up. 

Over his head, they smile at each other and Clarke kisses Gus’s head. He’s probably a bit too big to carry to bed, but he knows Clarke will try. 

Gus had taken to Clarke like nothing else after she moved him. There were times he was the only thing that would pull Clarke away from looking through the case, and Gus had beamed at the attention. Bellamy wasn’t quite sure if he remembered meeting her, the crying girl sat in his living room, but the picture he gave her was still in a gold frame, taking pride of place next to the door. 

The film finishes and Clarke nudges Gus, but he just nuzzles in closer to her. Octavia teased him that he had a crush on Clarke, she might be right. 

Somehow, Clarke manages to pick him up and he drools on her shoulder. Bellamy smirks as she makes her way upstairs with him. She’s always been amazing with him, it warms his heart to see it.

When she flops back on the sofa, she looks over at him and grins. “I just about managed to get him to put his pyjamas on. He’s going to unbearable tomorrow if he doesn’t have a little sister though. I hope for Octavia’s sake that he does.”

Bellamy snorts “Agreed. Poor Lincoln though.”

“Lincolns not pushing a baby out him.”

“No, but he has to put up with Octavia doing it.”

Clarke bats his shoulder with a laugh. He picks up the remote and switches the TV over, not one for cartoons butchering his favourite myths. He looks around the room again, now the curtains are drawn and the lights make a soft glow. He never would have imagined his home could ever look like this, if he’d decorated by himself it wouldn’t look even half as good as this. 

One of the many perks of having an amazingly talented girlfriend. 

In bed, he braids Clarke's hair back, like has become a habit in the summer when her hair splays unruly with the humidity and sticks to her neck. She sits back with her tablet and whatever bits she has leftover from work, he sits with his essay for his masters. It’s peaceful, domesticated and calm, they spend many nights like this, when their lives were overtaken by work and decorating they have quiet hours in bed side by side, each happily engrossed in their own thing, but together none the less. 

He thinks of Octavia suddenly, and what her life will be like with a baby and an eight year old, manic, but filled with love and laughter.

“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging her with his shoulder “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” She puts her tablet down and turns to face him. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath and starts “I know we talked about this a while ago, but with everything going on it was never really the right time. But now the house is finished and you’re settled with work, I want to start settling down.”

Clarke quirks an eyebrow at him. “Are we not settled?” She smiles.

“We are,” he assures “but it’s just, I want more. I’m not saying immediately but I want to know it’s on the cards sometime soon.”

“This new baby’s not even here yet and you’re broody.”

He huffs out a laugh, her expressions soft though. “Maybe a bit.” He confesses. In truth, he never thought he would get this moment, to sit in bed with the person he wants to spend his life with discussing having children. A part of him never really wanted this moment, he’d made his peace with dying young and that was that. But the larger, more dominant part of him knows that somehow he was always destined for this, by some strange twist of fate he was sitting here two years after he knows he supposed to be gone. 

“I want it too.” She nods, but there’s a reluctance there. “But right now isn’t the right time. You’re still doing your masters and Luna and I have just started growing our business. We’ve literally finished the house today. Let’s just have a bit of time for just us, yeah?”

He nods, relieved she didn’t turn down the idea completely. A lot had happened since that first conversation, one that seemed like a different lifetime ago.

“Time, I can do time.” He affirms with a smile.

“Yeah you can.” She agrees with a grin, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Until then, practice makes perfect.”

Now practice he could most certainly do.

*

The best thing about summer mornings is when the sun starts to show itself, they wake early then fall back to sleep wrapped around each other. This morning, Clarke turns with a huff towards him and throws an arm over his chest, still half asleep. With a lazy smile, he’ll let himself drift back off to sleep, Sunday mornings were made for that, after all. 

But his well-intentioned plans go awry when the door creaks open and the bed dips with a jerk when an excited Gus jumps on it and dives between them.

“Do I have a baby sister yet?” He demands, with far too much energy for that time of the morning. 

Bellamy groans and grasps for his phone, looking to see if there are any texts he’s missed overnight. Clarke grasps Gus around the waist and pulls his close, he squeals in delight as Bellamy’s eyes adjust to the screen.

“You’ve got a baby sister.” He grins at Gus, who gasps and grins back so big it must be hurting his face. “Baby Cassia.” 

“Aww.” Clarke sighs, sitting up to look at the photo. “Congratulations big brother.” She squeezes him a bit tighter.

Gus scrunches up his nose though. “She looks like a potato.”

“She does a bit.” Clarke agrees, Bellamy rolls his eyes but ruffles Gus’s hair

They spend the day trying to distract Gus, Clarke tries to get him to paint with her, Bellamy takes him in the yard to play soccer, but still he watched the clock and continuously asked when his parents were coming home.

Clarke sighs and says “Soon.” 

But there’s only so many times they can say that, so he’s relieved when he checks his phone and there’s a message saying that Octavia and Lincoln were on their way to pick Gus up. It was a relief, not that they wanted Gus gone, just so he could finally meet his new sister.

He was excited to meet her, too.

“Okay.” Clarke says when she sits next to Gus on the sofa “Babies sleep a lot so you need to be really quiet, and they cry a lot too. That’s pretty much all they do, oh and they poo a lot.”

Gus curls his lips up in disgust, having a baby is all good fun in theory…

“But they’re super cute.” Clarke assures him, seeing his expression drop.

“She looks like a potato.”

“Don’t tell your mom that.” Clarke warns “Just say she’s cute.”

A car door slams outside and Gus jumps up in excitement. 

“Quiet.” Clarke reminds him, and he nods and sits back next to her. It’s abandoned when Octavia walks in though, followed by Lincoln and Baby Cassia in a car seat.

“Mommy!” He shouts, and runs straight to Octavia, wrapping his arms tightly around her legs. “I missed you.”

Bellamy smiles as Octavia crouches to hug him back, then takes him to the sofa so he can meet his new sister. Clarke takes over job as photographer as Gus holds Cassia unsure in his arms, but he’ll get used to it. Bellamy was unsure when Octavia was born too, but he learnt fast how to deal with a baby.

Unlike Bellamy though, Gus will get to have a proper sibling relationship – in a stable home where he’s not expected to raise his sister, but love her and play with her.

When it’s Bellamy’s turn, he can’t help but melt, and when she wraps her tiny hand around his finger, like with Gus he knows he’s truly done for. These tiny humans have such a hold on his heart, he never knew he could love someone he’d just met. 

With a glance up at Clarke, there’s an expression he’s never seen before. Softer than usual, and a small smile as she watches him. She blushes when she notices him watching and looks back to the camera, snapping another photo.

“Okay,” Octavia announces, taking the camera off Clarke. “Enough hiding behind that thing, Cassia wants cuddles with Auntie Clarke.”

Reluctantly, Clarke hands the camera over and sits next to Bellamy, adorably nervous about holding Cassia. She’s awkward at first, tense and unsure about her movements, but she settles soon once she realises that babies don’t really move around that much and soon she looks almost…comfortable. 

It’s heartwarming to see her smile and coo. When Cassia starts squirming and whining, he wonders what she’ll do, whether she’ll automatically pass her back to Octavia but she doesn’t. Instead, she rocks her softly and murmurs “It’s okay, Auntie Clarkes got you.”

Octavia quirks an eyebrow at her “A baby looks good on you. You should have one.”

Bellamy expects her rebuke it, after their conversation last night about not being ready yet, he expects her to scoff and say _oh no, no way. Not yet. _

Instead, she smiles and says “Yeah, maybe.”

When they’d first got together, he’d asked and she’d said she wanted them too, but that was when the relationship was still new. There was a potential to walk away without too much hurt. Now, after everything that’s happened he wasn’t sure if her feelings still stood, but if they didn’t, if she said she’d been through too much he would honour it. He loves her too much to give up now.

But hearing the maybe, it sounded more like a chance than it did last night, where he thought maybe she was just appeasing him.

When they leave, his sister starting her new life as a family of four the house is eerily quiet without Gus here. The last two days have been filled with laughter and noise and a warmth deep inside him.

He gets out the shower late, they started cooking late as Clarke starting painting in the garden, and Bellamy was happy to just sit and watch her as they basked in the last of the summer sun. 

Clarke’s sat on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest as she stares blankly ahead. It wasn’t an unusual sight, she spent hours like this after the court case was finished and life was turned on its head. The crushing disappointment and learning to live her life without hyper-fixating on it drew her into a depression he wasn’t sure how to deal with. Somehow they always did deal with it, throwing themselves into work, he tried to encourage her to talk things through, and while it was difficult at first, it happened slowly, almost without him really realising.

She never did speak to Abby again, he’d tried to get her to, more for her own sake but he respected that she didn’t want to. Maybe in time, they’d heal that relationship. 

Things picked up gradually, with Cage and Dante Wallace locked up for a long time the true depth of their hold on Polis and the deception and destruction they’d hidden from the public came to light. The city had to learn how to operate now they were no longer under a tyrant hold.

Maybe they didn’t get the justice they deserved, but their ruling was over, and they would never, ever have power again. 

He climbs onto the bed next to her and touches her shoulder. When she’s been like this before she wouldn’t acknowledge him, just stayed locked in her head until she was ready to come out again. So it takes him by surprise when she turns and beams at him.

“Hey, sorry I kind of got lost in thought there.”

“It’s fine.” He half shrugs, Clarke uncurls herself and sits back against the pillows, Bellamy following suit. 

She’s quiet again, but not quite lost in her own head quiet. Just contemplative. 

“It’s quiet without Gus here, isn’t it. I kind of got used to having him around, even if it was just for a couple of days.” She murmurs.

“I thought that too.” He smiles, but doesn’t say anything more on it. He won’t rush anything, their entire relationship had seemed rushed, their friends had told them that they moved too fast, that the honeymoon period would wear off and they’d be stuck trying to navigate their relationship without being able to get away from each other. 

That was never the case though. They grew together, got through the dark periods together and came out so much stronger. 

“You know,” Clarke starts suddenly, looking over at him with tensed shoulders and furrowed brows. Whatever she was thinking about must be laying heavy. “I spent so long after the case was finished just, waiting for something to happen. I didn’t know how to cope, I didn’t know how to just _be_anymore. I’ve lived the last two years on hold because I’ve just been waiting for something to happen but I think – I realise now that nothing’s happening, not unless I say so. I never quite moved on, but having Gus here, and seeing Octavia and Lincoln together as a family, I want that Bellamy. I want to stop looking back and have a future where I’m not consumed by others mistakes. I want it with you.”

It doesn’t sink in at first, what she’s saying so he blinks dumbly at her until she laughs.

“Say something.”

“Are you – do you mean that? You’re not just saying it because of what we spoke about yesterday?” He stutters, he by no means wanted to pressure her into anything. 

“I’m serious. I’ve lived the last few years carrying so much anger and resentment, I need to move on now. So six month. That’s enough time for you to finish your masters and enough time to really get settled in the business and get myself ready. I’m not saying it will happen straight away, unless you wanted to wait longer?”

“No.” He half laughs, she’s got it all planned out by herself “I’m ready when you are, honestly.”

“I thought you would be.” She grins. “Let’s just have the next few months to just be us, get life sorted and enjoy being together.”

He brushes the hair out of her face and once again she’s beaming, they’re doing this, they’re becoming a family. “What brought this on?”

“Honestly? Seeing you with a baby kind of just – I don’t know, I just looked at you and thought, this is it, this is what I want.”

He leans forward to press his lips to hers, she grins at him when they pull apart and presses her forehead against his. 

There’s one more thing he has to do. He leans back to his bedside drawer, it’s filled with random things, mainly as a decoy to hide this.

He hadn’t gone out to buy an engagement ring, he hadn’t really thought about it at the time, life was still up in the air back then, the house was being redecorated, everything was a mess and Clarke was still having more dark days than good. But as soon as he’d seen it, much like with the necklace he knew he had to get it. So he’d bought it and kept it hidden, taking it out with them when they went for dinner or walks around the park. When they’d gone back to the restaurant they went to for their first date on their anniversary, but none of those times was the right time, he never _felt it._But now, in the least expected moment, sat in bed, he knows, he feels it. 

With a deep breath, he turns to Clarke, turning the velvet box over in his hands. Clarke sees it straight away, her eyes widening. 

“I’ve been waiting for the right time to do this.” He confesses, not looking up at her, keeping his gaze on the box. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so shy, but he does. “But nothing felt right until now. I love you, Clarke. I know I’m not always the best at showing it, I know we have our bad days but they’re nothing compared to the good ones. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I don’t know what strange twist of fate brought us together, and I know meeting you wasn’t exactly conventional but I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

With a shaky breath, he opens the lid of the box, perched snugly is the white gold ring he’d fallen in love with, a princess cut diamond sat in the middle, surrounded by tiny, delicate Diamonds that sparkle when the light hits them. 

“Clarke Griffin, will you marry me?”

He looks up then, tears sparkle in her blue eyes but there’s a smile on her face that can’t be matched, never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d get here. 

“Yes.” She beams, lurching forwards him to wraps her arms around his neck and pulling him close for a kiss. It was soft and sweet, it was the rest of his life. “Yes, yes, yes I will marry you.”

The ring slides onto her finger easily, and against her delicate hands, it looks like it was made for her. He can’t remember ever feeling this happy, he doesn’t think he ever has been, but he knows this feeling won’t go away. 

They made it through the storm and came out stronger, now the bask in the sun and reap the rewards. 

Somewhere, he doesn’t know where but he feels it, Jake Griffin is smiling down at them.

His heart was always made to love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it! It’s done! Thank you so, so much to everyone who read, left kudos and comments, it all made my days brighter. I hope this ending did the story justice for you when we didn’t get that in the show. My tumblr dm’s are open to anyone who wants to talk or rant.
> 
> Also - thank you so much for the nomination for the Best Romance Fic (WIP) category in the Bellarke Fic awards! I don’t know if the nomination still stands since this is no longer a wok in progress, but the nomination alone made my heart so happy and I appreciate it so, so much!
> 
> Now that this is over (and once again I shouting about t100 fic for BLM) I am still taking prompts on tumblr (@excuseyouclarke) for any fanfic needs.
> 
> Stay safe, stay healthy, and may we meet again.


End file.
